


I Have An Appointment With Eternity...

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:10:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 30th Century and two certain vampires meet up again.<br/>Post Grad 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have An Appointment With Eternity...

**Part One**  
  


He was bored.  
  


Angel looked around at the various people, both human and non, and wondered for the hundredth time why he took the transporter down to R'aalthn. It wasn't as if he didn't have things to do. He could be fine-tuning his lessons, conning the commissary into ordering more books, or even, god forbid, grading tests. Instead, he was standing at what looked to be the outskirts of a bazaar in the underground city of R'aaluna.  
  


With a fastidious eye, he began cataloging the various races moving like an undulating mass between the stalls. In this crowd, humans were far outnumbered. He still found the sheer number of 'alien' races amazing. Even after living in the stars for over hundreds of years, he was really still just a member of the Irish gentry from a time his students hated learning about.  
  


Things changed so quickly, time seemed to move more rapidly the older he got. He remembered when he'd been amazed by _automobiles._ Now, he lived his immortal life on a starship, teaching the children of others about the past, lest they forget and make the same mistakes. He'd made many friends, seen many more die, taken lovers, broken hearts, and lived his souled-existence as best as he could.  
  


Yet, he was alone. An anomaly. Sure, there were other vampires, but they tended to stay on the planets. It wasn't as if he had too much in common with them, anyway. He had a soul, they did not. He didn't feed from humans or the other palatable races, they did. He fought for good causes, they just liked violence and death.  
  


Some days he really missed being a soulless vampire. It would be wonderful to be able not to feel again, as another friend died of old age and he stayed the same. But his soul was a permanent fixture in his long life, as it had been for close to a millennia, and, although it hurt, he wouldn't want it any other way.  
  


Pushing his way into the throng of moving bodies, Angel decided to make the best of a boring situation and see if there was anything worth purchasing for his kids. He smiled to himself at the reference to his students as "his kids" and wondered if all teachers felt like he did towards his classes.  
  


Winding his way closer to the edges of the bazaar, he allowed the strange ambiance of the street to seep into him. Dull greys, browns and rust-colored fabrics lined the various stalls. Voices shouted back and forth above the general din of the many people. Children ran screaming by, playing a game of tag or pickpocketing from unsuspecting shoppers. Vendors called to passerbyers, trying to sell their wares. The scents of incense, fruit, vegetables and fresh meat filled the air, along with the underlying aroma of body odor and the pungent smell of animal dung.

Angel stopped at a stall proffering well-worn books and scanned the titles. He could read, write and speak over one hundred languages, as could most of those who had been star-hoppers, like he once was before settling down with a "real job," as Rigby called his teaching position on the starship Luna Nocturne. Then again, Rigby had called nearly being jettisoned into space "fun."  
  


A particular tome caught his eye, and he picked it up. He gently opened it and began skimming the pages, ignoring the seller, who had descended upon his interest like a vulture of the past. He'd been to many bazaars and he knew how to handle himself, as well as how to haggle the seller practically out of his shorts.  
  


"It's a very good book, is it not?" the vendor said. "Mint condition. Only one of its kind, and I have it."  
  


Angel continued to leaf through the green leather-covered book, turning his back slightly on the R'aalthnian, a fox-like, bipedal creature, with black, pointed ears and a black tail that stood straight up behind him. He tried not to roll his eyes as the vendor continued to babble on behind the table. The book was pretty rare and would make an excellent addition to his collection, but he'd never let that fact on.  
  


After a few more minutes of ignoring the seller, Angel turned and pinned the R'aalthnian with his hard eyes. "Ten dradmas."  
  


"Ten! What? Do you think I want to give my things away?" the vendor exclaimed. "I have a _mothra_ to feed, _chindas_ to clothe and put through their education...how about Fifty dradmas?"  
  


"Fifteen," Angel countered.  
  


"Forty-three."  
  


"Twenty."  
  


"Forty."  
  


"Twenty-two."  
  


"Thirty-eight, and that's my final offer."  
  


"Twenty-five and I won't take my business across the street, where your pal is selling this 'rare' book for twenty," Angel said.  
  


"Done," the vender agreed, holding out his hand. "Although, now I will not be able to send my little _chind_ to that..."  
  


Angel tuned the vendor out, as he passed the correct amount of dradmas to him. The colorful bills with the rendering of the current President Elect of the United Council of Planets were accepted quite readily in any system under the Council's domain. Those that weren't had their own forms of currency, and Angel had a lot of those kinds stashed away from his star-hopping days.  
  


"...like they are about to start the bidding," the vendor was saying as Angel tuned back in. He frowned at the seller, then turned his head to where the R'aalthnian indicated. He was immediately appalled.  
  


A platform was set up between two vendors, and two large thugs-for-hire stood on either end of it. A cage had been wheeled up to the side, filled with people of various races, in tattered clothing and shackles. A tall, slender R'aalthnian stood in the center of the platform, a pedestal with a wooden chest and a computerized clipboard on it, next to him.  
  


Angel could feel the bile building in the back of his throat. A slave auction, he thought with disgust. Out of the many things he'd seen on all the worlds he'd been to, slavery was one of the things that he hated, because he couldn't do anything about it. Different worlds, different customs. The few times he'd had the money, he'd purchase a slave and set them free. Then he'd found out that many of the slaves _wanted_ to stay that way, because that was all they ever knew. It was a horrible system that had yet to be overcome throughout the universe.  
  


"Thanks," Angel said offhanded to the vendor, tucking the book into the bag he carried. The thick, leather strap was across his chest, with the bag resting at his hip, to prevent thieves from snatching it and running. It also helped ward off the pickpockets.  
  


Heading towards the auctioneer, he mentally counted the amount of money he had left after the book purchase. Depending on the bidding, he quickly figured he might be able to free two of the slaves, maybe a husband and wife, or a parent and child.  
  


By the time he was within hearing distance, the third slave had been auctioned off. A young R'aalthnian girl, with long, pointed ears and a brown, furry tail that curved up above her head. Angel winced at the sight of the R'aalthnian who purchased her, knowing what sort of 'work' she'd just been bought to do. He ground his teeth together and focused on the auctioneer. Save who he could, he reminded himself. Not who he couldn't.  
  


"The next bid is for a humanoid," the auctioneer said, gesturing to a third guard Angel hadn't noticed in his earlier observations. The guard stuck a long-metal pole into the cage and the dark-haired vampire could barely hear the small sizzle of electricity as someone was shocked. "He is approximately two and three-fourths markreds high, has the strength of a Sweanda, but the temper of a Llwathwana."  
  


The crowd around the platform chuckled at the auctioneer's reference to the notoriously short-tempered aliens. Angel found the strength reference interesting, considering he was pretty evenly matched when it came to fighting a Sweanda, a ape-like creature that lived on the forested planet of Sweaneg. Of course, that was back in his swash-buckling days. The Nutty Professor may have a harder time beating one, if push came to shove. Luckily, the Sweandai were a passive group, and he wasn't planning any trips to their planet any time in the near future.  
  


"He has a peculiar appetite, but he makes a good worker, as long as he's kept on a tight leash." The auctioneer gestured to the guard, who opened the cage door. The others in the cage quickly backed away, leaving a single, stunned person slumped on the floor.  
  


Angel snarled under his non-existent breath when a Teenque stepped in front of him, blocking his view. While he was no shorty at just over three markreds in height, the tree-like alien was over five markreds tall, making him seem like a midget. With a glare at the green-barked alien's back, he maneuvered himself so he could see the platform again.  
  


And froze.  
  


"We'll start the bidding at Five dradmas," the auctioneer said. "Do I hear five dradmas?"  
  


"Five!"  
  


"I heard five dradmas, do I hear ten?"  
  


"Ten!"  
  


"That's ten dradmas. Will anyone give me fifteen?"  
  


Angel snapped out of his daze as the bidding flew around him. He needed to put his own bid in, and fast, before the ghost from his past disappeared again. He waited until he heard the next amount then doubled it. "Forty dradmas."  
  


"Forty, I heard forty," the auctioneer announced. "Do I hear fifty?"  
  


"Fifty!"  
  


Angel growled. "Seventy!"  
  


"Seventy dradmas!" the auctioneer bellowed. "Who will give me eighty?!"  
  


"Eighty!"  
  


"One hundred thirty-five dradmas," Angel stated, putting all his money on the line in hopes that no one would out-bid him.  
  


"One hundred thirty-five," the auctioneer said. "Do I hear one hundred forty?" No one responded. "Will no one bid one hundred forty dradmas for what is obviously a fine, strong, young humanoid?" No response. "Then I pronounce this sale closed for one hundred thirty-five dradmas. Thank you, sir. Now, on to our next bid..."  
  


Angel pushed his way somewhat violently through the crowd towards the edge of the platform, where another R'aalthnian was seated. He quickly read the transfer papers and signed his name, then gave the fox-like creature his money in exchange for the title of ownership. One of the guards who'd been stationed at the edge of the stage yanked the chained, still semi-stunned slave over to Angel and released him abruptly, causing him to fall unceremoniously to the ground at the dark-haired vampire's feet.  
  


Angel tucked the papers away. "Unchain him," he snapped, glaring at the guard. When the guard looked at him skeptically, his face rippled to that of his demon before fading back into its handsome human planes. " _Now._ "  
  


"It's on your head if he runs," the guard said, shrugging. He bent and unlocked the wrist and ankle manacles, then pulled the heavy chains away. "Don't say none of us warned you."  
  


Angel bent down and scooped his new slave into his arms, uncaring of the surprised looks he got from those around him. He quickly maneuvered his way through the throng of people to an out-of-the-way spot, then gently set his cargo down and hit the communicator on his wrist. "Two to transport," he instructed. Then he reached out and lightly ran his finger along a pale cheekbone of his precious new purchase.  
  


Spike.  
  
  
  


**Part Two**  
  


Spike hurt. It sucked.  
  


He _knew_ better than to drink that last glass of R'aalthn Ginane. He also knew better than to cheat at Sa'ant when he was so pissed he thought he turned back into a human. Then again, he hadn't learned his lesson the hundred and twenty times before that night, so why should number one-twenty-one have been any different?  
  


He was not looking forward to opening his eyes. The last thing he remembered was getting shocked by a hired thug he could take on with ease...when his hands and legs weren't manacled together. He knew he was about to be sold as a slave before everything became muddled. That in and of itself wasn't such a big deal, he'd been arrested and sold into slavery on worlds much harsher than R'aalthn, and each one he'd escaped from, leaving a sweet, bloody trail behind him and adding yet another bounty to his cute arse.  
  


However, the first few days of captivity were the worst. He actually had to _do_ whatever it was his new master wanted, until he could plan and execute his escape. Some of the things he'd done still made him shudder in disgust. Maybe he'd gotten lucky for once, and some nyphette had purchased him to entertain her and her friends in the bedroom. It wasn't too far-fetched of an idea, after all, he was still as sexy as he'd been over a millennia ago.  
  


With thoughts of naked women, men and other species that he couldn't classify, but were damn arousing dancing in his brain, Spike concentrated on listening to his surroundings. He could pick out the subtle hum of electricity, which meant that whomever had bought him was pretty well-off, if he was still on R'aalthn. He could hear the whisper of footsteps on the floor as someone approached him. He felt whomever it was stop directly in front of him, put his/her/its hands on the armrests of the chair he was slumped in, and bend down for a closer look.  
  


Spike decided to open his eyes. He screamed. "AAAAAHHHH!"  
  


"Why is it that everyone screams when they first see you?"  
  


Spike clamped his jaw shut at the sound of a voice behind him, but his eyes remained wide and focused on the dark-haired vampire he thought had died long ago. He could swear his heart was pounding in his chest, but whether it was from thinking the man was a ghost or from actual happiness, he wasn't too sure.  
  


"Rigby, shut up," Angel said, looking down at Spike.  
  


"Shutting up, sir," the voice, Rigby, said.  
  


"Bloody fucking shit, Angel!" Spike exclaimed, snapping out of his amazement and bolting to his feet. Not caring that his body hurt like hell or that he was acting like a complete nancyboy, he threw his arms around his sire and hugged him tightly. "Holy crap, I thought you were dead."  
  


"I am dead," Angel replied, hugging his childe back.  
  


Spike made a sound of disgust at the horrific pun and extracted himself from the embrace. "I haven't seen you in forever and here you are making stupid jokes."  
  


"Someone else who agrees with me that your jokes are stupid."  
  


"What happened to the 'shutting up, sir'?" Angel said, glaring behind Spike.  
  


Spike turned around and did a double-take. The voice that had been identified as Rigby was an Andinite. Part-android, part-Corlinane, the Andinites looked like short sticks with arms and legs. Two metallic-gold eyes and a non-moving slit where the mouth was made up the Andinites face at the top of the center 'stick.' The race was created by the Corlinane when their population was dying out in order to preserve some part of their heritage.  
  


The Andinites were immortal unless they were destroyed in some manner, such as being melted down for scrap metal. They held life in the utmost regard, were polite to the extreme, and tended to avoid leaving their home planet of Corlinan. Therefore, seeing one not only in his sire's presence, but talking back to Angel, was a second shock to Spike.  
  


He needed a drink.  
  


"Can you tell it not to stare at me?" Rigby asked.  
  


"It?" Spike said incredulously. He looked back at Angel. "It?"  
  


"Well, the big galoot did buy you," Rigby pointed out. "Thus, you must be property and therefore are considered an 'it.'"  
  


"Why you little bloody...stick!" Spike exclaimed, moving to rip the Andinite to pieces.  
  


Angel grabbed him roughly by the arm. "Rigby, Spike is not an 'it,' and unless you feel like fitting into my pocket, I'd watch what you say around him."  
  


"Very well, sir," Rigby said, mimicking a sigh. "If you insist."  
  


"I insist," Angel stated. "Why don't you get lost for awhile, I'd like a chance to talk to Spike."  
  


"Does he bite?" Rigby asked.  
  


"Only if the poof wants me to," Spike replied, a small sardonic smile tugging up the corners of his lips.  
  


"Spike, put a cork in it," Angel said. "Rigby, go away."  
  


"Fine," Rigby sniffed, heading out of the room. "Be that way. I know when I'm not wanted..."  
  


"Cheeky bastard," Spike said, plopping back down in the chair he'd vacated a short time earlier.  
  


"He reminds me of you," Angel said, earning a glare from the still peroxide-blond vampire. He chuckled and pulled up a second chair. "Actually, Rigby's not that bad. He knows his way around a hopper and has gotten me out of more jams than I want to admit..."  
  


Spike stared at his sire for a moment, then leaned forward and pinched him on the arm. "Hey!" Angel exclaimed. "What was that for?"  
  


"You _are_ real," Spike said. "This isn't a dream."  
  


"You're suppose to pinch yourself, dummy," Angel growled, rubbing his arm.  
  


The younger vampire started laughing until tears streamed down his cheeks. Angel continued to stare at him funnily, until he was able to gasp out, "I c-can't fucking," gasp, "believe it!" He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. "After all these bloody years..."  
  


"I was sort of surprised to see you, too," Angel said, propping a booted-foot on his opposite knee. "Especially at an auction as one of the items to be bid upon."  
  


"Yeah, well, shit happens," Spike told him, a large grin slashing his face. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head, then extended his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. "So you, tell me about you, you old sod. Still got the soul, I see."  
  


"Spike, you knew it was permanent when I last saw you back in the twenty-third century." Angel shook his head. "Damn, it's been a long time."  
  


"Almost seven hundred years," Spike said. He frowned. "Bloody hell, I'm getting old."  
  


"Time has a way of slipping by without you knowing it." Angel absently brushed a speck of thread off of his dark pants. "One minute, you're holding a new baby in your arms, the next, you're paying your last respects to him."  
  


"You haven't changed." Spike chuckled, glad to know that despite the length of time that had passed, his sire was just as he remembered. "Winner and still champion of the brooding competition."  
  


"At least I'm not getting myself sold into _slavery_ ," Angel pointed out. "How the hell did you manage to do that?"  
  


"Talent," Spike answered with a devilish grin. "And a lot of R'aalthn Ginane."  
  


" _You_ haven't changed," he said, then took in Spike's olive-colored, multi-pocketed pants, green tee and black service-vest also with multiple pockets. A tech-geek outfit, as Rigby liked to call it. He arched his brow. "Or have you? You haven't gone respectable on me?"  
  


"What this?" Spike asked, gesturing to his clothing. "A bloke's gotta make a living somehow."  
  


"You stole the clothes."  
  


"Got it in one." The blond vampire smiled and took his own time in examining Angel's clothes. Black pants, black v-neck, long-sleeved shirt, a funky-looking watch on his wrist. All normal, boring common-wear except for the heavy, multi-buckled boots on his sire's feet. "Fly-boy wear?"  
  


"Old habits die hard," Angel said with a small shrug. "Besides, they're comfortable, and I'm on my feet pretty much all day."  
  


"Wait, you mean you were a pilot?" Spike asked. He screwed up his face in disgust. "Probably one of those 'for the cause' fighter pilots, I bet?"  
  


Angel stood and crossed the room. "I was a star-hopper," he answered over his shoulder.  
  


Spike sat up straight in his chair, his eyes widening in amazement. " _You_ were a _smuggler_?!"  
  


"For awhile." Angel stopped in front of a niche in the wall with a flat-computer screen above it. "Angel-one, two cups," he said to the computer screen. Two cups of warmed blood appeared in the niche. He picked them up and headed back towards Spike, chuckling softly at the stunned look on his childe's face. "What's wrong, Spike? You look surprised."  
  


"Surprised?" Spike took the cup from Angel. "Why should I be surprised? I met up with my sire, who I haven't seen in almost seven centuries and who I thought was dust, he tells me he was a bloody smuggler for..."  
  


"About five hundred years," Angel supplied.  
  


"Five-fucking-hundred years," Spike continued. "He has an Andinite with him that talks back to him, and he just made blood come out of a hole in the bloody wall. Why should all that be a surprise to me?"  
  


"If it'll give you peace of mind, I'm a teacher now," Angel said. "Going on my ninetieth year."  
  


"History?"  
  


"What else?"  
  


Spike set his cup down on the round table beside his chair and covered his face with his hands as he started to laugh again. "This is just too rich. Next you'll be telling me that you teach on a bloody starship under the Council of Planets..."  
  


"I do."  
  


The blond vampire's head shot up. "What?" His eyes darted around the living room like area, taking in his surroundings for the first time. Smooth utilitarian beige walls with four doors, all of which were the sliding variety, greeted his eyes. He could see into a silvery bathroom through one doorway and the edge of a bed through another. The other two doors were closed. Undoubtably one led out of the suite and the other to a second bedroom.  
  


The furnishings in the room he was in consisted of a round table and four chairs, a cushioned loveseat along one wall with a small end table beside it and what looked to be a desk built into another wall with a chair in front of it. The computerized console/niche and a bookshelf crammed with old tomes took up the other walls.  
  


"Oh fuck, I'm on a bloody starship." Spike stood abruptly. "Shit, Angel, get me off of this thing. Take me back to R'aalthn."  
  


"Can't." Angel frowned up at his childe. "We left airspace about an hour before you came around."  
  


"Then dump me off at whatever planet we're above now," Spike said, gesturing wildly.  
  


"The Luna Nocturne isn't scheduled to stop anywhere for about a month," Angel said. "We're heading over to the Kilon System. Warp four the entire way."  
  


Spike practically deflated before Angel's eyes and dropped back down into the chair. "Bloody hell."  
  


"Spike, it's just a starship. You can't have lived this long and not been in one before," Angel said.

"Angel, the last time I was on a starship under the Council of Planets, they were shipping me off to Zwenstig Station," Spike said morosely. "From there I was to be taken to Bee'ik to live out the rest of my unlife as a prisoner, unless the Council got lucky and they could reinstate the death penalty." 

 

 **Part Three**  
  


"Damn, Spike, your record's as long as my arm." Angel whistled and scrolled down the criminal profiles screen at the computer on the desk. "Murder, arson, theft, racketeering...jaywalking??"  
  


"How was I suppose to know you don't cross the street in front of the Council's headquarters?" Spike said.  
  


"I think the signs would have been an indication," Angel said wryly.  
  


"Since when have I bothered to read the directions?"  
  


Angel shook his head. "It says here you escaped from Zwenstig. Well, considering you're standing right next to me, I'd say that was true. Impressive, Spike. Not too many have escaped from there."  
  


"Hey, it's me," Spike replied.  
  


"How you ever managed to stay alive this long is beyond me," Angel said. He leaned back in his chair and yelled, "Rigby!"  
  


"What do you want with that bloody stick?" Spike asked.  
  


"You bellowed, oh great wise one?" Rigby said, entering the room.  
  


"Rigby, cut the sarcasm and give me a hand," Angel told the Andinite. "I need you to jack me up so I can get into the Council's mainframe..."  
  


"Again?"  
  


"Again?" Spike looked at his sire incredulously. " _Again_ , Saint Angel?"  
  


"Spike, stuff it," Angel said. "Rigby, work your magic, pal."  
  


"The things I do for you..." Rigby pulled a chair over to the wall console above the niche and removed the panel. His jointed, metallic fingers allowed him to nimbly switch around a few wires, then he pulled a silver disk out of his pocket and shoved it into a hole in the circuitry. For a second, Spike pondered how someone managed to make the many-pocketed cargo pants small enough to fit around the short, stick-like body of the Andinite, or the black tee-shirt.  
  


"Try now," Rigby said.  
  


Angel's fingers flew over the touchpad, his eyes scanning the holographic screen hovering above his desk. Spike turned and watched over his sire's shoulder, unbelieving what he was witnessing. When the Council of Planets' main index appeared on the screen, Spike realized that he was wrong in thinking his sire was the same as he once was.  
  


"Rig, do you remember Senator Talmin's wife's maiden name?" Angel asked, his fingers hovering over the keys as the screen asked him for a password. "It's his month in the rotation."  
  


"Ooklana," Rigby answered.  
  


"Thanks," Angel said, typing in the word. The screen changed and Angel shook his head. "That fool never changes his password. I bet that the Council's mainframe gets hacked into more during his rotation... You'd think they'd learn already."  
  


"That would indicate that the Council was smart," Rigby pointed out. "And we both know what a crock that is."  
  


"True," Angel replied. "Ah, here we go. The infamous Spike." He hit several keys. "Who is now officially spacedust."  
  


"Just like that?" Spike said, amazed.  
  


"Just like that," Angel said.  
  


"Your property there isn't too bright, is he?" Rigby asked.  
  


Spike turned to glare at the Andinite when Angel said, "He never was very intelligent."  
  


"Hey!" Spike said. "Right here, you know."  
  


"We know," Angel said.  
  


"And we're hoping you depart very soon," Rigby added.  
  


"Unhook me," Angel instructed Rigby, logging out of the Council's mainframe. He glanced up at Spike. "You're a free vamp, Spike. Try not to fuck up."  
  


"So, what did you just do?" Spike asked, frowning at the Andinite as he changed the wires back to their original positions.  
  


"The wires?" Angel asked. Spike nodded. "Shifted the electricity from the core to boost the power of the frequency in order to cut through space to the main planet. We are going warp four, remember?"  
  


"Ah," Spike said, not having a clue what his sire was talking about, but not wanting to let on. "Right."  
  


"Moron," Rigby muttered.  
  


"Can I destroy him?" Spike asked Angel, gesturing to the Andinite.  
  


"Nah, I'm saving that joy for a special day," Angel replied, grinning wolfishly at his childe. "I have a bottle of Chianti saved up just for the occasion."  
  


"You are a laugh a minute, sir," Rigby said. "And you are exactly three minutes late for your first class."  
  


"Rigby!" Angel exclaimed, bolting up from his chair and rushing into the bedroom. His muffled voice could still be heard from the other room. "What the hell do I let you hang around for?"  
  


"My dashing good looks," Rigby called back.  
  


Spike leaned back against the desk and watched with a questioning lift of his brow as the Andinite put books into a bag, then walked over to the door and stood by it. Angel came rushing out of the room, wearing a deep red v-neck shirt instead of the black one. He grabbed the bag from Rigby and slung it over his head, the strap resting crosswise on his chest. "Thanks, Rig."  
  


"Later, sir," Rigby said, stepping back as the door slid open.  
  


Angel took a step out into the hallway, turned around and looked back at Spike. "Well, are you coming or do you want to spend the day with Rigby?"  
  


Spike was out the door in a second.  
  


Angel walked at a fast clip down the corridors of the Luna Nocturne towards the lifts, his longer stride causing Spike to practically have to jog to keep up with him. However, he wasn't about to slow down. There was a five-minute-late rule he'd created when he first started teaching, stating that if anyone was over five minutes late, they shouldn't bother to come at all. Then, to set a good example, he told them if he was more than five minutes late, they could all leave with credit for the class. He knew he students were ready to bolt out the door the instant the second hand reached double-zero.  
  


He hit the down button when they reached the lift doors, then gave it a second, impatient jab. "It's not going to come any faster," Spike pointed out. "And so what if you're late. You're the bloody teacher."  
  


"That's why I _can't_ be late," Angel told him. The lift doors opened and he ushered his childe inside, then hit the button for deck four. His suite, along with most of the other crew quarters, was located on deck two of the large starship. "It's a teacher thing."  
  


"Right." Spike looked around curiously at the interior of the lift. "You know, last time I was in one of these things, it wasn't near this nice."  
  


"You probably got taken to the brig in the cargo lift," Angel said. "And for some reason, those lifts always smell like moldy cheese."  
  


"I thought sour milk, but you're right," Spike said. The lift doors opened and he followed his sire down another uniform, beige, carpeted corridor and right into a small auditorium filled to capacity. He paused in the doorway as Angel continued to the front of the room.  
  


"Greetings, all," Angel said, his voice carrying over the din of the students' talking. He glanced up at the clock on the wall as he dropped his bag on the table in the front of the auditorium. "Looks like you're stuck here for the hour."  
  


A collective groan rose in the room, to which Angel held up his hand to quiet them. "Before we start today, I have a guest I'd like to introduce." He gestured for Spike to come into the classroom. "Class, this is my old friend, Spike. Spike, this is my Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century History class."  
  


Spike tried not to laugh at the course subject, as he sauntered into the room and gave the class of teens a half-hearted salute. The multi-raced class started whispering to each other and staring at him like he was an exhibit of some sort. He had the urge to moon them, but figured Angel would skin his hide if he did that. Perhaps another time.  
  


"Sir," a student said, raising her hand.  
  


"Yes, Wanina?" Angel said.  
  


"I don't mean to be rude or nothing, but how old is your old friend?" Wanina, a dark-skinned human, asked. "Like regular old or you old?"  
  


"Spike is about forty years younger than I am," he answered Wanina.  
  


Spike flashed the students a wicked grin. "And much better looking," he added. He was happy to note a few of the students swooning appropriately. Close to twelve hundred years old and still got it, he thought boastfully. Then again, his good looks were what always seemed to get him into trouble. Angel may have cleared his Council of Planets record, but there were still bounties on his pretty little head, including one for indecent exposure to a noble and another for prostitution. He was such a bad, bad man.  
  


"Since Spike thinks so highly of himself," Angel said sarcastically. "Do you have any questions for him-"  
  


"Are you married?"  
  


"Seeing anyone?"  
  


"Date outside your species?"  
  


"Gotten arrested?"  
  


"Killed anyone?"  
  


"Know any good stories about the teacher we can blackmail him with?"  
  


"-about _history_ ," Angel finished, talking over the students. He shook his head at their previous questions and perched at the edge of the table. Several students raised their hands. "Qinka."  
  


"Can we ask any history question, or does it have to be about the eighteenth or nineteenth century?" Qinka, a spider-like Archaniean, asked.  
  


Angel glanced at Spike and the blond vampire shrugged. "Any history question," he answered. "Sarah?"  
  


"Were you in the Lightning War?" Sarah, a blond human, asked, referring to the last war the Council of Planets was officially involved in, during the twenty-sixth century.  
  


"Yes," Spike replied, hopping up onto the table next to his sire. He began to swing his legs in an unconscious manner. "I was a NCO, a non-commissioned officer, on Icthori. Led a bunch of kids no older than you around the jungles at night until I almost got my leg blown off. The war was over before I fully healed."  
  


Angel glanced at him with an uplifted brow and he gave the dark-haired vampire a half-grin. He may be an old reprobate, but he did do _some_ good and decent things. He'd lived too long not to be affected by what he still referred to as "humanity." Then again, he'd spent the fifty years following the Lightning War on U'ulark as what could be loosely termed a Lothario, so he wasn't all that noble.  
  


"Pieatro?" Angel called on another student.  
  


"What was your favorite century?"  
  


Spike thought for a moment. "I'm not sure, they sort of all blend together after awhile," he answered honestly. "I guess I'd have to pick three of them. The nineteenth, early twentieth and the twenty-eighth."  
  


"Why?" another student asked. Angel was also quite interested in hearing the answer, although he suspected the second one had to do with Drusilla.  
  


"A man, a woman and another woman," Spike said, with a waggle of his brows. The class tittered and he waited a moment before explaining further. "I'll go last one first. In 2708, I won a Jenuvian playing Cnark'i. As you've probably learned, slavery is still a big thing on certain planets. I don't recommend it. It's all work and no fun, and shock-collars bloody chafe like a bugger."  
  


"Spike, these are still _kids_ ," Angel whispered. "Watch your language."  
  


"You were a slave?" another student asked with incredulity.  
  


"Er, a couple, thirty, hundred times or so," Spike said. He chuckled at the astonished gasps he received. "Believe me, it was not something I enjoyed. Well, maybe once or twice, like when I was bought by a Mlina male who liked to-"  
  


Angel cleared his throat loudly and glared at his childe. Spike shot him a sheepish grin. "Right. Slavery is bad. Very, very bad. I learned my lesson...s-s-s."  
  


The blond vampire returned his gaze to the interested students, then went back to his story. "The Jenuvian I won I ended up being worse than I am, so I married her and we spent close to seventy years making as much trouble as we could on as many planets as we could hitch rides to. Then we got caught up in a skirmish on Y'lanxar and Gemma was killed saving a family from a bunch of soddin' soldiers who wanted to slaughter them."  
  


Spike pressed his lips together as the memories flitted through his mind. Sometimes he was too much of an emotional git. Even though almost two hundred years had passed since her death, he still got weepy when he thought of Gemma. Then again, he still got all teary-eyed when he thought of Dru or Angelus, before he'd known the poof was still among the walking. When he was certain he had control, he continued.  
  


"Moving backwards about eight hundred years prior to that to the early twentieth century, there was another woman," Spike said, a slow smile crossing his lips. "She was completely out of her mind, and I was completely in love with her. Just like with Gemma, Dru an' me tore around Earth together until a mob hurt her in the 1990's. Then we went to this little hole in the ground called Sunnydale to help her heal, and everything went to hell. But before that, boy did we make that world burn."  
  


Mention of Sunnydale brought up memories of first love to Angel. A smile spread across his own face and, when Spike looked at him, he knew the blond vampire was remembering a certain tiny Slayer that turned both their worlds upside down.  
  


"Then there was this bloke with long, brown hair and a ridiculous mustache and chin-fuzz from the nineteenth century who started this whole mess I call my immortal life," Spike said, his smile taking on a wicked twist.  
  


"Hey, you had long, brown hair, too," Angel said, folding his arms across his chest. "But you never could grow any facial hair."  
  


"Sod off," Spike told him with a teasing note to his voice. He returned his eyes to the class and gestured to Angel. "If you hadn't guessed, your esteemed teacher is the man I was talking about. This ponce was my best friend -- although he was a lot less nice back then -- was my own teacher, and was my lo-"  
  


"Spike," Angel warned.  
  


"-vely trouble-making companion," Spike finished. "Plus, he introduced me to Drusilla, which makes him a swell guy in my book."  
  


The breathy way he said "swell guy" made Angel itch to smack his childe across the back of the head. He'd forgotten how much Spike enjoyed making mischief. Then again, he should have known by the record in the criminal profiles that Spike was anything but a saint. Although, he couldn't talk. He and Rigby had gotten into a lot of trouble, too, during their star-hopping days. Of course, he was smart enough not to get caught, unlike a certain unruly childe of his. But Spike wouldn't be Spike if he wasn't doing something wrong.  
  


"I was back on Earth a couple years ago, visiting the old stomping grounds," Spike said. "Aside from the fact that everything smells so bloody pure, it hasn't changed much in a thousand years. If you ever want to really see history, take a trip there."  
  


"Are there any other questions?" Angel asked. "Lliana?"  
  


"Yeah, have you met anyone important, like that would be in the history books?"  
  


"Well, I flashed Queen Hwe'ippnra of Danyuine once..."  
  
  
  


**Part Four**  
  


Spike was let loose.  
  


On a Council of Planets starship.  
  


With a clean record.  
  


He was in troublemaker heaven.  
  


Spike rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation. Angel had classes every hour until 1500 hours -- all Council starships were on military time -- and had told him he could explore if he wanted to. His sire had also told him a bunch of other stuff, but he stopped listening after he'd heard the word "free."  
  


His first stop would be at a bar. Every large ship had one somewhere, legal or not. Granted, he didn't have any money, or anything else for that matter because the R'aalthn 'police' took it all, but that never stopped him in the past. And so what if it was only 1000 hours? He'd just have to have juice in his drink.  
  


Before he tuned his sire out, he had heard Angel's suite number and the promise that he would take Spike to see his hopper later that night. It was only somewhat strange to be awake during what conceivably was the day. But in the interior of the starship, there were no windows. Plus, even if there were, at warp four, any type of sunlight wouldn't come through them.  
  


Twenty wandering minutes later, Spike found what he was searching for and had conned the bartender out of a drink. He was already flirting shamelessly with a pretty little human who had just come off duty. If he played his cards right, his wait for Angel to finish for the day would take on a horizontal nature.  
  


*****  
  


Angel was almost afraid to ponder what his childe was doing. He had two more classes to go before his day was over, his youngest students and his oldest students. Seeing the vast age differences back-to-back always made him smile. Today, however, he would be too busy waiting for his wrist communicator to go off to even register the students were there.  
  


He wondered if he should ask Rigby to find and keep an eye on Spike, but that could be considered cruel and unusual punishment...to both of them. The Andinite was his closest friend, almost a brother to him, but at times Rigby could make a saint want to choke himself. How Angel managed to live with him for the past six centuries was beyond anyone, including the dark-haired vampire.  
  


With a sigh, Angel checked the clock on the wall again. Only two more hours to go, he thought. Two more.  
  


*****  
  


Spike whistled tunelessly as he sauntered down the corridor, sliding his vest back on, his hair damp from the shower. Pretty Little Miss Off Duty was sleeping in satisfactory bliss in her bed. A nice, sturdy bed that withstood the very nice activities that took place on it for the past few hours.  
  


He nodded a greeting to someone exiting the lift, then stepped inside and pushed a button at random. According to the clock in the suite he'd just left, he still had a couple hours to kill before his sire was finished for the day. Plenty of time for him to wreak some havoc on the Council starship.  
  


The lift doors opened on deck six and he stepped out into yet another uniform corridor. The Council really needed to get a decorator, he thought as he headed up the hall. He picked a door and pressed the touchpad outside of it, and the door slip open to reveal a vast room painted entirely black with yellow grid-lines. Even the floor was black and yellow, hiding the actual size of the room and making him a little nauseous.  
  


Spike let the door slide closed and frowned at it. He was turning to leave when he saw a computer console set into the small side wall. Stepping closer, he read the screen and smiled broadly.  
  


"A holodeck," he said to himself, poking at the touchkeys with no real knowledge as to how to work it. He'd heard of the Council's starship holodecks, but he'd never been in one before -- they normally didn't allow prisoners the luxury of using one.  
  


"Let's see here, gimme a menu or something," Spike muttered, his eyes skimming the information on the screen. Considering it was well into the thirtieth century, he wasn't completely computer illiterate, but he preferred to con others into getting the information he wanted. His good looks were his asset, not his superior intellect.  
  


"Ah, here we go." He read down the list that appeared on the screen until he found Angel's name. He knew it was his sire and not someone else named Angel because one of the choices read "Angel-Buffy."  
  


Closing his eyes, he pointed to one at random. Reopening them, he read his choice. "'Angel-Carmela.' Carmela, huh?" He selected that name and turned to the door when the screen read told him to proceed. "This should be interesting," he said somewhat sarcastically. The door slid open when he pressed the touchkey, and his jaw dropped open an instant later.  
  


The black and yellow room had disappeared. In its place was a large bedroom with burgundy walls and black draperies. Candles were set around the room, providing light to create a gothic, yet intimate ambiance. They went quite well with the whips, chains and other sex toys he saw scattered everywhere.  
  


"You dog," Spike said in amazement. "Getting kinky in your old age."  
  


"Hello," a voice purred from the shadowy corner of the room. "You're not Angelus."  
  


"Er, no," Spike said. "I'm a...mate of his."  
  


"Friends." The voice slowly got a body as a leather-clad woman walked seductively into the candlelight. "I like friends."  
  


Spike swallowed heavily at the sight of the gorgeous woman holding a switch in her hand. "Carmela?" he guessed.  
  


"Uh-huh," Carmela cooed. "And who might you be?"  
  


Her eyes roved down his body and Spike felt as though she were not only stripping his clothes off, but his skin, too. "Spike," he answered.  
  


"Nice," she purred, rubbing the switch on the side of her leg. Her black eyes met his and he could see her wicked intentions in them. "It'll be fun to make _you_ cry."  
  


Spike considered himself to be a man's man. He may be a pretty boy who used his looks and considerable charm to get himself into and out of trouble, but he was tough as nails. He wouldn't have survived past the twenty-second century if he wasn't. And, as a man's man, he'd rarely been scared.  
  


Carmela scared him spitless.  
  


"That's okay, luv," Spike said quickly. "I can cry just fine without help. Bye."  
  


The door swished closed behind him and he shook his head. "Angelus, I did _not_ need to know that about your sick tastes."  
  


He returned to the computer screen, intent on finding something _normal_ to pull up. His sire had about twenty different holodeck programs to choose from, including the Buffy one and Carmela the Dominatrix. His eyes skimmed the list until they lit on one simply labeled "Angel-home." Deciding that sounded relatively safe, he selected it and waited until the computer prompted him to enter.  
  


The room had transformed once again. It was smaller and he could see two doorways leading out to possibly other rooms. It was set up as a library or a study, still in dark colors, this time hunter green and burgundy. Two old-fashioned, green-leather chairs sat at slight angles in front of a pleasant fire built in a large fireplace, a small, round wooden table between them.  
  


Bookshelves lined a few of the walls, while the others were decorated with paintings. Other antique furnishings sat here and there in the room, dressed with lace doilies, vases of flowers or crystal decanters and glasses. What looked to be a plush, white, bear-skin rug was spread out in front of the fireplace, far enough away from the hearth not to catch a spark, and close enough to the matching chairs so someone sitting in one could rub their feet over the soft fur.  
  


Spike stepped further into the room and the door swished shut behind him. He glanced back and saw a dimly glowing keypad next to the entry, which had transformed into an old wooden door, rather than the modern sliding beige one he knew it to be. Looking closer at the keypad, he saw a lock button which would prevent others from barging into the holodeck while it was occupied. That was a definite plus, he thought, remembering Carmela and her boudoir of pain.  
  


"Angelus, you would not bloody believe what I-"  
  


Spike whirled around at the voice and footsteps ringing out on the hardwood floor behind him. The person speaking froze as well, staring at him, a brilliant blue feather in his hand. Dark, longish hair was tied back with a deep red ribbon at the nape of the person's neck, and he was dressed in tan breeches of old and a loose poets shirt tucked into the waistband. His feet were encased in calf-high boots, scuffed and dirty from constant wear.  
  


"Oh, er, hello," the British-accented person greeted warily. Blue eyes studied Spike with an intensity that made the peroxide-blond vampire feel like he was the most important person in the universe. But it was the strong, chiseled features -- features that he was intimately knowledgeable of -- that threw Spike for a loop.  
  


He was looking at himself, circa the 1800's.  
  


"Can I help you, mate?"  
  


Spike shook his head slightly, trying to snap out of his stupor. "Sorry," he apologized, not knowing what else to say. "I was, er, looking for Angel."  
  


"He went out for a bit, is there something I can help you with?" The hologram him twirled the feather stem between long, pale fingers. "Cor, where are my manners? I'm William, and you are...?"  
  


"Spike," Spike answered. This was too bloody weird, he thought. He was having a conversation with himself. He should have taken Carmela up on her offer.  
  


"Interesting name," William said.  
  


"Yeah, it's grand," Spike said. It was time for him to run far away and drown himself in a bottle of Hiewam Opptyn. "Well, since the poof ain't here, I guess I'll be leaving."  
  


"You can wait, if you'd like," William told him. He gestured towards the chairs with one hand, the other bringing the feather up and running the tip along his own neck. "I don't mind."  
  


"I bet you don't," Spike muttered under his non-existent breath. The way William was looking at him made him think of things that would be too disgusting to put into words. How could one have sex with himself? Then again, he now knew how he looked to those he was wanting to seduce, and it sent a little perverse thrill of pleasure through him.  
  


"Can I offer you a drink while we wait, Spike?" William asked.  
  


He's looking at my neck!, Spike thought, watching as William tilted his head in a way that would have had Spike in his arms in a second if it wasn't, well, himself. He wondered why was it that he recognized himself, but William didn't recognize that he was, for all intent and purposes, Spike? Perhaps the hologram wasn't programmed to recognize mirror images, or perhaps the hologram didn't know what he looked like. He'd have to pick someone's brain about how holodecks worked, but right now, he had to leave before he was bent over the chair begging to be taken like some sick pervert.  
  


"No, that's okay," Spike answered, his voice remarkably steady despite the combination of disgust and lust churning inside him. "I'll try and catch him later."  
  


"I'll tell him you stopped by," William said, a slight smile turning up the corner of his lips.  
  


"You do that," Spike said. He turned and jabbed at the touchpad. "Bye."  
  


"Goodnight, Spike," Williams said.  
  


Spike practically bolted out into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind him once he was clear. He had felt William's eyes burning a hole in the back of him, making him think of hot, sweaty nights and cool kisses. He banged his forehead on the opposite wall several times. "Sick," bang, "sick," bang, "sick," bang, "sick," bang, "bloody fucking sick," bang.  
  


"You're going to put a hole in the bulkhead if you keep that up, and I don't feel like being sucked into space today."  
  


Spike turned and saw Rigby standing several feet away. He could swear that the Andinite was smirking, despite the fact that his mouth was a permanent, non-changing slit on his metallic, stick-like head. The golden eyes studied the blond vampire with definite amusement, of that Spike was certain. "Shut up, Rigby."  
  


"Doesn't work on me, moron," Rigby said. "You're not my friend, or my enemy. In fact, you're not even a blip in my memory banks."  
  


"Bugger off," Spike growled. He stalked over to the computer console and poked at the touchkeys until the screen was cleared.  
  


"Problems with the holodeck?" Rigby asked.  
  


"Didn't you hear me say to bugger off?"  
  


Rigby chuckled, a noise which sounded remarkably like a chipmunk's chattering. "I take it that was a yes."  
  


"Don't you have someone else you can annoy?" Spike said, exasperated.  
  


"Tweedle-dum asked me to make sure you weren't getting into any trouble," Rigby said.  
  


"The ponce doesn't trust me, eh?"  
  


"I think his specific words were 'Spike is an idiot, make sure he doesn't promote that idiocy.'"  
  


"Wanker." Spike sighed and glanced around the corridor, trying to remember where the pub was located on the starship. "I need a drink. Since you're my babysitter, you can take me to your liquor."  
  


"Only because you asked so nicely," Rigby said sarcastically. He gestured towards the lifts. "That-a-way, my darling."  
  


"First Carmela, then myself, now Rigby the stickboy," Spike muttered, following behind the Andinite. "I'd better make it two drinks."  
  


**Part Five**  
  


"Let's see if I got this right," Spike said, setting his drink down on the table. "Angel had a memory scan and the holodeck computers were able to create real life images from that."  
  


"Right," Rigby said.  
  


"And the holodeck computers are learning computers, so they remember what happened each time the holodeck was in use." Spike leaned back on his chair and tapped his fingers on his knee. "Plus, the computers make is so each of the holographic people have 'outside' lives that continue, even when the program isn't in use."  
  


"Still going strong," Rigby commented.  
  


Spike gave him a look. "And the holograms are tangible because of the amount of energy put into them. Which means Carmela the Whipping-girl could actually cause pain. But could she kill?"  
  


"No," Rigby replied. "The holodecks are programed with a safety mechanism that won't allow anyone to become too severely injured. You can turn that safety off, but rarely anyone does. The computers monitor vital stats and call the infirmary if the user is too hurt to move."  
  


Spike frowned. "How does it work on vampires then?"  
  


"Image signatures," Rigby said. "And X-Rays. It's a little too complicated for you to understand."  
  


"You are a real wanker, you know that?" Spike said. He picked up his drink and took a long sip of the thick Opptyn. The Hiewan drink was so thick and strong, it could be used as to patch holes in space. It was currently patching the holes in Spike's nervous system from the two holodeck encounters.  
  


"How did I know I'd find you here?" Angel looped his bag over the back of a chair, then sat down and signaled the bartender.  
  


"Because you have a vastly superior intellect that allows you to easily solve complex conundrums, sir," Rigby answered.  
  


"Wha' 'e said," Spike added, gesturing to the Andinite with his drink.  
  


"You two are full of it," Angel said. The bartender came over and set the dark-haired vampire's drink on the table. Angel picked up the deep gold liquid and took a sip, then cocked his head slightly as he looked at Spike. "So, what did you do all day?"  
  


"This, that and a lot of the other," Spike answered with a devilish grin. "I especially enjoyed the other."  
  


"I'm not going to have to worry about there being a body found somewhere, am I?" Angel asked.  
  


"Not unless she died from too much pleasure." The grin on Spike's face grew. "Now _that_ would be a good way to go. Shagged to death. Has such a nice ring to it, don't you think? I could probably cause that if I wanted to."  
  


"They'd more than likely die under the weight of your ego," Angel told him.  
  


Spike cupped his crotch in a crude manner. "Thanks for the compliment, mate."  
  


Rigby made a sound that could pass as a snort of derision. Angel just shook his head and took another sip of his drink.  
  


*****  
  


Angel ran his hand lovingly down the side of his hopper. The J-5200 Jenuvian spacecraft, named Lightning's Lady, looked arrowhead or a shark's tooth from above, with a long cylinder-shaped cockpit attached to the side. The extremely modified craft, or hopper as all smuggling crafts were called, held all the amenities necessary to live for long periods of time in deep space with extra room leftover to hide a rhinoceros from Earth if need be.  
  


The dark-haired vampire had smuggled everything from political refugees to liquor to information that was too sensitive to be communicated by means other than in person. For five hundred years, he and Rigby had spent their lives among the stars, never staying on one planet -- or even in one solar system -- for long. They'd sneaked onto the heavily guarded world of Greenso'ong, they'd escaped from the Council of Planets' police patrol, and squeaked by death time and time again when they'd had little hope of survival.  
  


He missed it.  
  


Not that he'd give up teaching or his comfortable quarters on the Luna Nocturne. Five centuries was a long time to be without a home, which the Council's starship was to him now, as well as a long time of not being around others. He remembered it had taken him a couple years to get used to socializing again. Rigby, too, which was one of the reasons why they shared the suite. It had been just the two of them, minus a few lovers here and there, for close to half of his immortal existence.  
  


He almost didn't have Rigby, either. The Andinite had hidden aboard his craft when he'd stopped on Corlinan to pick up supplies, and had popped out of a cabinet when they were out of the solar system. Rigby had been running from the Andinite police because he had spoken his mind, rather than following the polite rules of the Andinite society. Angel had intended to drop him off at the next planet they came to, but unexpected things happened, and the dark-haired vampire ended up needing Rigby's help. That had been their first co-smuggling operation, and they'd been together ever since.  
  


"Well, what do you think of her?" Angel asked, ducking under the hopper and examining the craft as he came up on the other side. "Isn't she a beauty?"  
  


Spike was standing in front of it with his arms crossed, a suitably bored expression on his face. "She's a looker."  
  


Angel flicked him off, then continue his perusal of the hopper's exterior. "You wouldn't know a fine piece of machinery if it shot you in the ass."  
  


"Angel, look at me," Spike said, spreading his arms out. "Do I look like I give a hoot about flying?"  
  


"I guess you'd only care if a ship had a bed," Angel replied dryly.  
  


"Doesn't have to be a bed," Spike said, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Any flat surface would do."  
  


"You are incorrigible."  
  


"Yep."  
  


Angel laughed, the rich sound filling the hanger. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his childe until just that moment. Spike had always been self-centered, arrogant, cocky and way too aware of his sexual prowess, and it was wonderful to find the peroxide-blond was still all those things. "Come on, lover boy, let me show you where your old man lived for five hundred years."  
  


The hopper was kind of neat, Spike thought, as he poked around in the various cabins. Angel had shown him several compartments that he never would have known were there unless pointed out. There were a few fold-down bunks which looked like they would be comfortable enough for a good day's worth of sex, as long as one didn't want to be too aggressive. Considering he'd spent most of his unlife "on his back," as a corruption of the old saying went, his mind always observed areas in terms of shaggability, and his sire's spacecraft had enough areas to keep things from getting too boring.  
  


"Maybe when we hit Kilon, I'll take you out for a spin," Angel said, looking quite at home in the pilot's seat, where Spike had found him after his explorations. "She could use a good workout."  
  


"You talk as though this crate was a woman," Spike commented, perching on the edge of the Rigby-sized co-pilot's seat.  
  


"She is," Angel told him. "She runs hot and cold, never wants to do what I want her to do, but when you caress the controls and she purrs..."  
  


"You are sick," Spike said. "First Carmela the Mistress of Screams, now your bloody ship. I fear you."  
  


Angel arched a brow. "Carmela?"  
  


"Hey, it's your bloody holodeck program," Spike said.  
  


"Ah." Angel smiled mysteriously, a dark, unfocused look coming into his brown eyes. " _Carmela_."  
  


The name tumbled from his sire's lips with a buttery softness that spoke of illicit affairs and exquisite pleasure. "And they think _I'm_ the sexual deviant," Spike muttered. Those dark eyes focused on Spike and the younger vampire felt like he was melting from the flames within them. He shifted on the edge of the seat and folded his arms across his chest in a protective manner. "What?"  
  


The mysterious smile deepened and a slight bit of gold glittered behind the brown irises. "Just thinking of home," Angel replied in a voice like liquid heat.  
  


"Oh." Spike's less-than-intelligent response was due to the fact that he was seconds away from throwing himself at his sire, despite the cramped quarters. It didn't help that the moment Angel had practically purred the word "home," he immediately conjured up the holodeck image of what was labeled 'Angel-home.'  
  


Angel watched Spike, drinking in the subtle changes in the younger man, as the atmosphere in the small cabin became heady with suggested intimacy -- a tensing of the muscles in Spike's crossed arms, a tick in his cheek, the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the slight flare of his nostrils as he purposely inhaled, the rise of his chest at the same time because of this. Silence filled the area, but it was a silence that screamed.  
  


Then the klaxon alarm went off in the hanger and the moment was gone.

 

 **Part Six**  
  


The skirmish had lasted a week so far and was still going strong. A week filled with pacing and nail-biting and swearing, as Spike was confined to Angel's quarters while the dark-haired vampire flew in the firefight. Not many were brave enough to try and take on a Council of Planets' starship, but there were few renegade groups who tried from time to time.  
  


This was one of those times.  
  


Spike felt useless, a feeling he absolutely abhorred, while the small battle was waged in space. If it were a land battle, he'd be right in there, leading the fighters himself. He wasn't lying when he'd told Angel's class he'd been a NCO in the Lightning War. He had also been in smaller wars on many of the planets throughout the years, giving orders and direction to whichever side he was championing.  
  


But in space there was nothing he could do, nothing he knew _how_ to do, and it ticked him off. If it wasn't his sire out there, he would have been using the hectic atmosphere on the ship to line his own pockets and offer 'comfort' to those worrying about their loved ones involved in the battle. Instead, he was one of those worriers, wearing a hole in the carpet between the bedroom and the main door.  
  


*****  
  


"Rig, I need more aft thruster!" Angel yelled out of the cockpit. His eyes flew over the colored lights, his fingers flipping switches and turning dials at an unnatural speed. "Check the dampers on the coolant coils, I'm getting a warning light!"  
  


Flashes of red and green flew past the cockpit window, as the battle raged on around Lightning's Lady. Angel sat in the pilot's seat, dressed in his flight gear, a well-worn leather jacket thrown over the arm of Rigby's co-pilot's seat. A burst of fire shot out of the twin blasters mounted to the hopper, as he pulled the trigger on the stick. The opposing spacecraft that had been heading right towards him veered off, and Angel dove after him.  
  


"Crap, sir! Warn me before we go diving!" Rigby's metallic voice shouted up at him.  
  


"Sorry," Angel muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the craft he was chasing.  
  


"Toggle the E5 switch!"  
  


Without looking, Angel flipped the switch up and down as instructed with one hand, as his other hit the trigger again. Dark red beams of energy flew through space at the renegade's craft and it exploded into a large fireball. "Oops," he said, shoving the stick forward while yanking back on the speed control. The hopper shot through flames, setting the interior alarms off, as Lightning got singed.  
  


Rigby came rushing back into the cockpit, slapping his hand over the alarm silence button, then slipping into the co-pilot's seat. His metallic fingers flew over the control console, the chair spinning as he worked the controls beside him, as well as above him. When another alarm sounded, the Andinite was on his feet again, hurrying out of the cockpit, muttering to himself about how they should have scrapped the hopper centuries ago.  
  


Angel grinned despite the seriousness of the situation. He and Rigby had easily fallen back into the pattern of working together on the hopper, practically reading each other's thoughts and anticipating each other's moves. The craft was held together by spit and duct tape and a lot of luck, but she flew like a dream and packed quite a wallop, thanks to the improvements the two of them had made over the centuries.  
  


"Damn it, sir, when the hell was the last time you checked the fire extinguisher!"  
  


Angel shook his head as the telltale odor of smoke hit his nose. It was just like old times.  
  


*****  
  


Spike growled as he stomped down the corridor. He was planning to get shit-faced and stay that way until Angel returned or Angel was dead. He hadn't seen his sire since the wanker had literally flown off into the fight, the pilots choosing to sleep aboard their crafts in the hanger when they came in to rest or for repairs instead of returning to their quarters. In fact, he didn't really even know if his sire was still alive, seeing as how no one would tell him anything.  
  


He hadn't slept in almost two weeks and knew that he looked like something a cat threw up, but he didn't care. He was sick and tired of waiting and worrying in the suite like a damnable house-husband. He should be taking advantage of the situation, not moping around. He should be shagging some sweet thing into unconsciousness, be it a male, female or unidentifiable.  
  


He growled again and smacked the bulkhead hard as he entered the deserted bar. The ugly red emergency lighting was still blinking overhead, but the klaxon alarm had been silenced within a few hours of the start of the battle. The bartender was sitting on a stool behind the long counter that lined one side of the room, bottles of multi-colored liquor behind him on the shelves.  
  


Spike sat down at a stool and glared at the man. "Sa'ardian, now, and leave the bloody bottle," he ordered. His choice of liquor would have him forgetting his own name by the time half the bottle was empty.  
  


The bartender set the bright orange Sa'ardian down before him along with a shot glass, then returned to his seat and his book. Spike poured himself a shot and drank it down, then repeated the action three more times before pausing to take a very-much needed gulp of air. His insides felt as though they were being ripped out with a dull butter knife as the Sa'ardian worked its way down to his gullet.  
  


It was just the way wanted it.  
  


*****  
  


"Well?" Rigby said, looking down the open flooring in the deck at his dark-haired companion. The hopper jolted and jarred with each hit it took, the deflector shields on Lightning's Lady the only thing protecting them from becoming spacedust.  
  


"We're in deep shit," Angel replied, drawing his arm back to bang on the machinery with the tool in his hand in anger. The hopper whined and a bolt of electricity danced along the paneling, then the engines whirred back to life.  
  


Angel grinned up at his pal, streaks of grease decorating his face. "Or not."  
  


*****  
  


"Come on, you stupid machine," Spike grumbled, stumbling slightly as he stabbed at the buttons outside a holodeck room. The quarter-full bottle of Sa'ardian was in his other hand, sloshing up the sides as he tried not to fall over. "Will you bloody work already?"  
  


The door slid open in front of him and he nodded his head in satisfaction. "'Bout bloody time." Staggering forward, he entered the holodeck and looked around. He had no clue what he had selected, only that his sire's name had been the first half of the selection.  
  


It was night in the holographic world, and in front of him was the beginning of a grassy hill that rose as far up as he could look before he almost fell backwards as he lost his balance. With a frown, he took a fortifying drink and started up the hill.  
  


*****  
  


"YYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!!!"  
  


"You said it, sir!"  
  


Angel rolled the hopper in a tight circle, the shots from the fighter on his tail whizzing past their craft. Once they got Lightning up and movable again, they dropped the shields back to their proper settings and used quick thinking, skill and a bit of luck to avoid getting hit. If the shields stayed on full, the power to the other functions was reduced, including weaponry, speed and maneuverability.  
  


They'd been in space for sixteen days straight, fighting alongside the other Council of Planets' fighter pilots and a few others who were just hitching a ride, but didn't mind getting involved in a good skirmish. There was no real night or day, only endless blackness as far as the eye could see, punctuated by the flash of energy bolts and the lights from the various ships.  
  


Like they had in the past, Angel and Rigby took turns power-napping twenty-minutes apiece every ten hours. They fed from the replicator on board, drinking down both of their liquid sustenance. When they were both awake, they ran back and forth all over the ship, adjusting settings, rerouting energy to maximize performance, and making haphazard repairs. An old shoelace held the landing gear doors closed. A piece of bubblegum kept the pilot's chair from spinning erratically.  
  


They changed off piloting fluidly, without hesitation or pause. Even mid-fire, they could change controllers in a second, never missing a shot. They could communicate without words despite the fact Rigby's face was never-changing. Their vast difference in sizes made working together simpler rather than harder, the Andinite being able to squeeze into tiny spaces while the vampire was able to easily fix things above their heads.  
  


Most importantly, they had fun.  
  


"There goes that damper warning again," Angel said, executing a complete loop and coming up behind the slower fighter that was tailing them. "Take it."  
  


Rigby grabbed the stick, sliding it along the hand-built track over in front of the copilot's chair, and hit the trigger. The sound of the hopper's weapons firing accompanied Angel as he left the cockpit and hopped down into the open flooring. After one look at the components, he unzipped his flightsuit and let it drop around his waist, then yanked his dirty, white tank-shirt over his head.

A moment later, the shirt was shoved between the two coolant pipes and the warning light went off.  
  


*****  
  


There was a tree at the top of the hill. A giant oak tree, lush and green and full, just begging for someone to come and sit under it.  
  


Spike plopped down on the ground and took another long swallow of liquor. The bottle flopped beside him and the blond vampire turned his blurry eyes to the view. "Oh, now this is nice," he said in amazement.  
  


The valley spread out below him, perfectly picturesque under the full moonlight in the night sky. He could see colors, a patchwork pattern of deep greens, browns, and golds. A small town lay beyond the fields, the sloping roofs aligned just so along the black stripes of the streets. Trees of all shapes and sizes surrounded the town, a green forest stretching out behind it as far as he could see.  
  


Spike leaned his head back against the bark of the tree and felt a sense of peace steal upon him. His eyes drifted shut a few moments later and he let the sounds of the holographic night lull him to sleep.  
  


*****  
  


"Uh, Rigby?"  
  


"Yes, sir?"  
  


"Are you planning on shooting down this asshole, or shoving us _up_ his asshole?"  
  


"Nag, nag, nag. Side-seat flyer."  
  


"Now I know why I went into teaching."  
  


*****  
  


Spike groaned and put a hand over his face. Hangover, he thought, then wished he hadn't thought anything. His mouth was glued shut, and it was possible something crawled in it and died. His head was pounding so hard, others could probably hear it. With a second groan, he pried open his eyes.  
  


And tried not to scream.  
  


He shoved himself to his feet, his back scraping the bark off the tree, as he used it as a prop. He waited for the inevitable burning, his eyes squeezed shut again, as the sun started to rise in the horizon.  
  


It didn't.  
  


One eye cracked open, then the other, when he didn't immediately burst into flames. His mouth parted and a small gasp of amazement escaped him. Gold and dripping in fullness, the air shimmered around the sun as it rose, bathing the valley below him, causing the dark colors he had seen the night before blaze into brilliant, vibrant hues.  
  


"Fuck," he whispered in complete and utter awe. He sunk back down to the ground, his vest and shirt riding up, the bark scratching his skin.  
  


He sat there in the same spot, watching the colors of the valley change as the sun climbed the sky, until it set on the other side of the horizon.  
  


Then he waited so he could see it again.  
  


*****  
  


"Twenty-years, partner," Angel said, as he ran a filthy hand through his flattened, non-washed, dirty hair. His other hand flipped various switches, powering down Lightning's Lady back in the hanger, nineteen full days after the start of the skirmish. "That's how long I'm going to sleep."  
  


"You and me both, sir," Rigby said, his own metal fingers shutting down the controls, too. "After I take a long, hot oil-bath." The Andinite made noises like he was sniffing the air. "I would highly recommend you follow the same course."  
  


Angel grinned. "I do smell kinda ripe."  
  


"You could peel the hull off the hopper."  
  


"Rigby, shut up."  
  


"Shutting up, sir."  
  


The dark-haired vampire shook his head and stood. His unzipped flightsuit gaped open, exposing a streaked, dirty, slightly burned chest from the numerous repairs made over the days. "You coming?" he asked, glancing down at Rigby, still in the co-pilot's seat.  
  


"You go ahead," Rigby replied. "I want to check a few things before I close up shop."  
  


"Will do," Angel said. He set his hand on the Andinite's shoulder. Rigby turned to look up at him, his golden eyes glowing in the dim cockpit. "Why did we give this up again?"  
  


"To have a home," Rigby answered. "It was time."  
  


"Yeah," Angel sighed and dropped his hand to his side. "Home." He looked out of the cockpit window to the busy hanger. "We did good, didn't we?"  
  


"We sure did, sir," Rigby said.  
  


"The perfect team."  
  


"Like two nuts in a sac."  
  


Angel groaned. "Goodnight, Rigby," he said, then turned and headed out of the cockpit.  
  


After descending the ramp, the vampire looked over the outer hull of his spacecraft, a smile tugging at his mouth. Reaching out, he patted her side. "Thanks, old girl," he said. "You did it again."  
  


He nodded a greeting to a fellow pilot and joined him in conversation as they left the hanger. All the pilots used the cargo lift, rather than the main lifts, in order to avoid getting dirt and grease everywhere. Black footprints could be seen running along the carpeted corridor, going to the various doors that made up deck two, as the pilots returned to their suites.  
  


Angel rubbed his eyes as he entered his own suite, debating on whether or not to forego the shower and just sleep. He really didn't care that he smelled like old gym socks, and he'd be happy to toss his sheets into the incinerator once he woke up. Having made the decision, he hit the button on his wrist communicator and spoke into it. "Angel to Sheila."  
  


"Sheila," the starship school's principal's voice answered over the communicator.  
  


"I'm keeping classes on hold until I catch up on my sleep, okay?"  
  


"That's fine, Angel," Sheila replied. "Glad to hear you're still alive."  
  


Angel chuckled. "Glad to be alive, Sheila. I'll let you know when I'll be ready to take on the little horrors again. Angel out." Releasing the communicator button, he turned to head into his bedroom and froze.  
  


Spike stood in the doorway, the dim lighting in the living room highlighting his shirtless torso. Bare toes dug into the carpet as the blond vampire stood there, staring at Angel with his intense blue eyes. The cargo pants he wore were unbuttoned and were riding low on his lean hips, and his hair was slightly mussed from sleep.  
  


Home.  
  


The thought struck Angel like lightening, causing him to inhale sharply. This was why he had stopped star-hopping and took a job on a Council starship. This was why he'd created a holodeck program and labeled it in that manner. This was home to him.  
  


Spike was home.  
  
  
  


**Part Seven**  
  


"I'm back." It was most likely the stupidest greeting he'd ever given, but Angel wasn't thinking too clearly at that moment. The only picture-perfect thought looping through his brain was _home_.  
  


"So I see," Spike said, his voice flat and emotionless.  
  


Angel stared at his childe a moment longer, then took a deep breath and grimaced at the smell of himself. "I'm going to take a bath."  
  


Spike nodded once, a barely perceptible movement of his head. Angel gave him a half-hearted smile, then turned to head to the bathroom. He'd taken two steps, and then found his path blocked by the blond vampire. "I wouldn't get too close," Angel said. "I st-"  
  


Angel's warning was cut off by a fist connecting with the underside of his jaw. His head snapped up, then he looked down at Spike, stunned by the blow. "What the hell was that for?!"  
  


"That was for making me turn into a soddin' nancyboy," Spike stated, glaring up at his sire. With the older vampire in his boots and Spike barefooted, Angel towered over the blond by close to a foot.  
  


"Excuse me?" Angel blinked in confusion. "I did wh-"  
  


This time, Angel's sentence was cut off by Spike's mouth pressed to his. The younger man's hands were clenched around Angel's unzipped flightsuit, forcing him down to Spike's level. Surprise caused Angel not to react for several seconds, but then the soft, insistent pressure of Spike's lips against his broke through to him, and he brought his hand up to cup the back of the blond's head as he began to kiss Spike back.  
  


A slight chill ran down his spine when Spike's tongue brushed against his lower lip, seeking entry. Angel parted his lips, his own tongue darting out to invite Spike's in. The world around him fell away as the kiss deepened and became more intense. Angel's other hand had gone around Spike's waist, his large palm spanning the younger man's lower back, pulling him closer.  
  


A quiet rumble of pleasure caressed Angel's ears, as Spike released his grip on the flightsuit. The light brush of fingertips against the exposed skin of his chest made Angel respond with his own soft sound of encouragement. Their tongues tangled together, moving back and forth between their mouths, neither one battling for dominance.  
  


Slowly, they broke apart, and Angel opened his eyes to see Spike lick his bottom lip, followed by his rubbing his lips together, as if prolonging the sensation of being kissed. Then Spike opened his eyes and Angel was drowning in twin pools of desire. He felt his defenses being stripped away by the younger man's glittering blue gaze, but instead of making him feel exposed, he felt as though he was being worshipped, as though he was the center of Spike's world.  
  


Spike was a _lover_ , Angel thought. Of that there was no question. Spike had been born, grew to a beautiful man, and then brought into eternal life because he was to be a _lover_ in every sense of the word. Those that the vampire had been with undoubtably were left feeling as if they were the most desired, most perfect, most physically satisfied creature in the universe. He'd bet for days, maybe even weeks or months afterwards, they would glow from their encounter with Spike and subsequent bedmates would pale in comparison.  
  


Angel had succumbed to the younger man before because of his stripping gaze, but that had been a hologram created from a memory scan. The real man was standing inches from him at that moment, and the intensity behind the ice blue orbs rendered the holographic William into a cross-eyed buffoon.  
  


"What was that for?" Angel finally asked in a slightly shaky voice.  
  


Spike rubbed the pad of his thumb in a small circle on Angel's chest, his eyes never leaving his sire's. "I've always had a thing for dirty fighter pilots who stank worse than Danth'op dung," he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips in a low, caressing tone.  
  


Angel's lips twitched as he tried to suppress his smile, but mirth bubbled inside of his chest until he could not prevent it from escaping him. Spike grinned mischievously up at him as he let go with his laughter. There was no doubt left in his mind, as he tightened his grip on the back of his childe's head and shoved Spike's face into his smelly armpit -- he had found home.  
  


"Fuck, Angel!" Spike yelled, shoving against his sire with all his might. He broke out of Angel's grasp and glared at the older man, a slightly green tinge to his skin. "Bloody hell, were you trying to kill me?!"  
  


"You're already dead," Angel pointed out. His hand darted out to ruffle Spike's mussed hair. "I'm going to take that bath."  
  


"Good," Spike said, batting Angel's hand away. "Wanker."  
  


With a happy smile, Angel walked around Spike and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He turned on the faucet over the tub and hit the plug, then dug around in the cabinet for some _Goop_. He didn't bother filling the tub all the way, considering the water would be black by the time he got all the grease off of himself.  
  


Washrag in hand, Angel settled down in the warm water and began the long, arduous task of cleaning himself after nineteen bathless days. He winced when he rubbed the blackened, dirty skin over his burns. His arms and chest always got the brunt of his injuries from flying Lightning, mostly caused from improvising repairs or smothering small fires.  
  


"Okay, this hurts," he groaned, washing off a particularly nasty gash on the inside of his elbow that he had gotten that day. The wound started to bleed, adding red to the black water. "Oh yeah, this hurts a lot."  
  


"Need some help?"  
  


Angel hadn't heard the door swish open and jumped slightly at Spike's voice. He turned his head and saw the blond vampire standing in the doorway. "What I need is to have my head examined," he replied, hitting the drain-stopper with his toe. "I'm a teacher, not a pilot."  
  


Spike smirked and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. "Could have fooled me," he said, coming to stand by the edge of the tub. He looked down at the mucky water swirling down the drain. "Now that's disgusting."  
  


"No shit," Angel said, trying to push himself up out of the tub so he could wash it out, then refill it. Instead, all he managed to do was groan.  
  


The blond vampire bent and slid his arms under his sire's, then assisted him to his feet. "You don't look much cleaner," Spike commented, helping Angel out of the tub. "But the smell is much more tolerable."  
  


"Spike, shut up," Angel sighed. He raised his hand and rubbed his eyes. "Damn, I'm tired."  
  


Spike gently shoved Angel out of the way, then quickly cleaned out the tub and started to refill it with hot water. When he turned to Angel, a smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. The older vampire was literally asleep on his feet, leaning back against the sink, his chin dropped to his chest. "Angel, your bath's ready," he said quietly, lightly touching his sire's arm.  
  


"Mm-hmm," Angel responded, not opening his eyes or moving. Spike chuckled softly, shut off the tap, then grabbed a towel and patted the older vampire dry. When that didn't stir Angel, Spike knew nothing short of another klaxon alarm would rouse him again.  
  


Effortlessly, he guided the sleep-walking Angel from the bathroom to the bedroom and settled him in the bed. He returned to the bathroom to drain the tub and kick the dirty clothing and boots into the corner. Then he went back to the bedroom, locked the door behind him, stripped out of his pants and climbed in the opposite side of the bed, where he had been not sleeping for the past two and a half weeks.  
  


Propping his head up with his hand, Spike studied the vampire beside him. He didn't want to admit it, but the kiss he'd shared with Angel had affected him more than any kiss had in a very long time. Normally, he'd be the one on the giving end of things, not the receiving end, and he had definitely been receiving shocks of pleasure and excitement caused by the dark-haired man next to him.  
  


"You and me, Angel," Spike whispered. "Before this little trip is up, it's going to be you and me, and now I've got a bloody hard-on just thinking about it, you sleeping sod." He grumbled more to himself as he wrapped his arms around a pillow and laid his head on it, shifting uncomfortably under the soft sheets. With a final quiet curse, the blond vampire joined his sire in sleep.  
  


*****  
  


Angel half-woke to find himself curled up against another body, his head laying on a firm chest, his arm draped across a narrow waist, his leg entwined with another leg, his sex pressed up against a muscular thigh. It wasn't all that unpleasant of a way to wake up. In fact, he was feeling quite content to lay exactly how he was until he was forced to move. "Which won't be for a long time, if I have anything to say about it," he mumbled.  
  


"About what?" Spike's quiet voice asked from above him.  
  


"Moving. Me. Ain't gonna happen," Angel replied sleepily.  
  


"That's what they all say," Spike told him, his fingers lightly dancing over his sire's spine. "But I usually change their minds." He chuckled softly when he felt Angel's cock swell to life against his thigh. "See?"  
  


"Very cute," Angel muttered, still half-asleep. "Just for that, I'm going to have to kiss you without mercy."  
  


"That sounds like fun." Spike ran his hand up along the back of Angel's neck, teasing the base of his dark hair. "Anytime you'd like to give it a go, I'm game."  
  


Angel cracked his eyes open, smirked, then darted his tongue out over Spike's flat nipple, which was right in front of his mouth. The younger man hissed, his fingers stilling, and his own shaft jumping to life.  
  


"Unfair," Spike said, then cursed softly when his sire did it again. "That's a good way to find yourself on your bloody stomach with your arse in the air, mate."  
  


Angel raised his head and pinned Spike with his half-lidded gaze. "That sounds like fun," he repeated, his voice slightly rough from sleep. "Anytime you'd like to give it a go, I'm game."  
  


The older vampire watched as Spike's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened to a navy blue with a tiny hint of gold reflecting in them. The atmosphere became charged and tense, surpassing that of the night in the cockpit weeks ago.  
  


Without breaking eye-contact, Angel dropped his chin and slowly ran his tongue over Spike's pectoral. Spike inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, his hand closing over the hair at the back of his sire's neck. A smirk pulled up one side of Angel's mouth and he asked silkily, "Well?"  
  


Then Angel was on his back and was being thoroughly kissed by an exceedingly aroused younger man. His hands immediately slid around Spike's back, shifting the blond atop of him so their hard members were pressed intimately together. Spike's tongue plunged into his mouth, inciting a silent battle of desire, where both of them would be the victors.  
  


One of Angel's hands dropped down to the muscular globes of Spike's buttocks, hidden beneath the sheets. His fingers tightened, squeezing and pressing down, as he arched his hips a bit. Spike made an almost inaudible sound of pleasure, but Angel heard it, and his hand turned so he could run his fingers up the slightly warm crevice.  
  


Spike broke away from Angel's mouth with a low moan when the older man's fingers brushed over his hole. Angel nibbled and kissed his way down the side of his jaw to his neck as he continued his explorations beneath the sheets. "Fuck," Spike gasped, his pelvis reflectively jerking forward, when the tip of a dry finger entered him.  
  


"Oh, I sure hope so," Angel murmured against the skin of Spike's neck, his blunt teeth scraping along his childe's jugular.  
  


Spike captured Angel's mouth again, practically devouring him with the intensity of his kiss. The blond settled his weight on his forearms for a moment and spread his legs, his knees dropping down to the mattress on either side of Angel's hips. He shifted his weight again and slid his own hips forward, lifting slightly so his sac brushed easily up over Angel's balls and along his rigid shaft.  
  


Angel groaned into the kiss, his one hand continuing to play along his childe's crack, the other slowly tracing around each vertebra in his spine. The heady, masculine scent of arousal filled the air, making the bed chamber seem shrink in intimacy. The low-level, floor lighting that ran around the perimeter of the room inadvertently added to the sensual atmosphere that was growing more intense by the minute.  
  


Spike continued to move his hips back and forth, driving Angel slowly insane with each brush of his soft, but heavy sac. Having spent more than two weeks alone in the suite, the blond vampire knew of the hidden cache in the headboard of the large bed. As his tongue continued to wreak havoc in his sire's mouth, one of his hands rose to pop the small door open and remove the lubricant. With an expert move of someone who'd oft done the action, he had a gob of the slick substance on his hand.  
  


Stopping the movement of his hips caused his sire to whimper in protest, but it turned into a low growl of pleasure as Spike grasped the dark-haired man's shaft with his lubricated hand. Angel scraped his blunt nails around the side of Spike's body in order to coat his fingers with the stuff, then they returned to the blond's puckered opening and easily slid inside; first one digit, then two.  
  


Spike broke the kiss at the same time he released Angel's hard member. "Sit up," he whispered harshly, wiping his hand on the sheet before rising up on his knees. As Angel scooted upwards, he grabbed the pillow and turned it sideways before letting it rest against the headboard.  
  


"Wha-" Angel began to ask, but found himself abruptly cut off as Spike kissed him again. He was half-sitting up, his back against the pillow, his legs straight out in front of him, with Spike leaning forward on his knees to plunder his mouth with exquisite talent. The dark-haired vampire's hands slid up Spike's arms to his shoulders, wanting to pull the younger man closer.  
  


Spike did move closer, much closer than Angel expected in the position they were in. He inhaled sharply, his mouth tearing away from Spike's, as the blond slowly lowered himself onto Angel's turgid shaft. Spike's genitals were pressed tight against the dark-haired vampire's abdomen, his knees up near Angel's sides, high on the mattress.  
  


Spike put his hands on Angel's shoulders and began to raise and lower himself on his sire's steel cock. He felt Angel's hands move to his hips, helping him, his dark head falling back against the top of the turned pillow. Golden-brown eyes met and held liquid blue ones, and Spike could not prevent the small growling noises of pleasure emitting from deep in his throat each time he sank back down on Angel's shaft.  
  


Angel felt his face shift as his orgasm approached, but he didn't want to go over alone. One of his hands fumbled for the discarded tube of lubricant and he squirted a bunch on Spike's cock. He dropped the tube and wrapped his hand around the blond's hardness, the pad of his thumb pressed against the sensitive underside.  
  


His fingers tightened around Spike's hip, guiding him faster and making him hit harder, as his other hand slid along the younger vampire's slick member. His knees raised off the bed and his feet pressed down into the mattress, as he started to thrust up to meet the blond man's movements. Spike's own features shifted and Angel felt the muscles around his cock tighten abruptly.  
  


A snarl ripped from his throat as Angel climaxed, his hips shooting up off the bed as he forced Spike down hard upon his pulsating cock. He heard an echoing snarl and felt a stream of semen hit him under the chin and on his chest, as Spike followed him into orgasm.  
  


Angel's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he was gasping for unneeded air in reaction to his orgasm. Then he felt the brush of Spike's tongue over his lower lip and his eyes shot open for a brief moment before he let them fall shut again and pulled the younger man into a searing kiss.  
  


Eventually, the kiss slowed and changed, become less passionate and more tender. Their fangs retreated as their human masks slid back into place, their tongues barely swept against one another's, their lips met and gently parted. The highly charged atmosphere of the bedroom settled down to a quiet hum of contentment, bringing the vampires down from their climaxes.  
  


Spike pulled away first, lingering over a final brush of his lips against Angel's. When he opened his eyes, his met his sire's relaxed and sated gaze. His lips curled up into a pleased smile, then he winked. "So, was it good for you?"

 

 **Part Eight**  
  


Spike cheated at cards.  
  


Angel shook his head as he sat at the bar, watching his childe play a game of Eeinat with several other members of the crew. He was a good cheat, too, the dark-haired vampire thought. If he hadn't been devouring Spike with his eyes -- or wasn't a pretty decent cheat at cards himself -- he wouldn't have noticed.  
  


The week and a half had passed rapidly and the Luna Nocturne was nearing the Kilon System. The Council starship has bumped its speed up to warp seven after the skirmish in order to make it to the system as scheduled. Angel suspected they had maybe two days tops before they were in orbit over one of the planets in the system.  
  


Which meant only two more days of Spike in his bed.  
  


Angel knew Spike would want to leave once they got to the starship's destination. The blond vampire had been whining for the past three days about how bored he was while Angel was in classes. The starship was large, but it wasn't large enough for a creature such as Spike, who craved change and loved to make mischief.  
  


Over the past several days, in between classes and being thoroughly sated by his lover, Angel had learned that Spike rarely stayed on one planet for more than a decade. The younger man had jokingly said that by the time ten years had passed, he'd have bedded all the most desirable beings on whatever planet he was on.  
  


Angel wasn't surprised by that revelation. Spike was impossible to resist, and that was why he cheated so easily at cards. The others were too busy imagining silk sheets and naked, writhing bodies to pay attention to what Spike was really doing. Instead, they were focused on the way his childe would run his finger over the backs of the cards in his hand, as if they were a lover's body. Angel could practically hear their heartbeats increase when Spike looked at each player with his intense blue eyes. Every so often, Spike would run his tongue over his lips, and the heat in the room would increase a notch.  
  


The dark-haired vampire took his mind off watching Spike cheat and concentrated on the younger man himself. Angel had never met anyone who was so damn masculine, yet so utterly feminine at the same time. Spike's face was hard and chiseled, yet pretty in its smooth alabaster paleness. His body was muscular, but lean, and his shorter stature pulled on the protective instincts of larger beings. His fingers were strong, but long and thin, and he fancied wearing nail polish in all different colors, drawing attention to hands the invoked images of touching and never-ending pleasure.  
  


Even his voice was a combination of masculine and feminine charm. It was deep and slightly rough around the edges, but when he spoke, the words rolled off his tongue with a breathiness that Angel had only heard from women, usually seductresses. But it was Spike's eyes that drew even the most staunch and devout celibate to the bed chamber. Long, dark lashes framed his bright blue eyes, the scar on his left brow giving him a bit of a wicked edge.  
  


Angel had thought it before and he'd think it again and again -- Spike had a way of looking at someone as if he or she were the most exquisite creature in the entire universe, including men who looked like tanks and indeterminable gender creatures that resembled purple, gelatinous ooze. Even those who thought same-sex coupling was the most vile and disgusting thing they could think of changed their tunes when Spike turned on the charm.  
  


"Why don't you just take it on the table right there, sir?" Rigby said, interrupting Angel's thoughts.  
  


"What?" Angel asked, trying to turn his gaze from Spike to his Andinite friend, but failing miserably.  
  


"You're salivating on the floor worse than a Vpreeniq in heat," Rigby replied, taking a seat at the bar beside Angel.  
  


This time, Angel was able to tear his eyes away from the blond vampire to glare at Rigby. "Shut up, Rigby."  
  


"Not a chance, sir," Rigby said. "I need to tell you something you're not going to like."  
  


"And what's that?" Angel said, taking a sip of his drink. Classes had been long and hard earlier that day, and he was glad that the school week was almost up. Next time, he'd take a few more days off after a firefight before returning to his students. They were very wild and only wanted to hear about the battle, rather than about what they were suppose to be studying.  
  


"We'll be docked in orbit above Kilon-4 at 0730 hours, sir," Rigby replied.  
  


Angel set his drink down slowly. "Oh?"  
  


"I was talking to Mis'ka, and she said that the Captain bumped us up to warp nine for the last leg of the trip. I guess Luna is picking up someone of relative importance and we _have_ to be on time," Rigby explained. The Andinite turned on his stool and looked over at Spike. "I thought you'd might not want to be surprised."  
  


"Thank you," Angel said quietly, staring down at his glass. Spike's distinctive laughter rose from behind him and the dark-haired vampire pressed his lips together a moment, trying to let the news settle in his brain. Then he picked up his drink, tossed the rest down, and stood. "I'll see you tomorrow, Rig."  
  


"Very well, sir," Rigby said.  
  


Without looking at the Andinite, Angel turned and crossed the room to where Spike was seated. The blond man raised his eyes from his cards and Angel was hit with his searing blue gaze. A smile spread over Spike's features and Angel felt as though a Wamtry stepped on his chest. Swallowing heavily, he walked over to Spike and set his hand on his childe's shoulder. "Ready to go?" he asked.  
  


"I think everyone here would be happy to see that happen," Spike said in reply. The others at the table laughed, clearly under the effects of the blond vampire's charms. He put his cards down and pocketed the large pile of dradmas that had accumulated in front of him. "Goodnight, everyone."  
  


A small chorus of "goodnight, Spike," followed the two vampires as they made their way out of the bar. Once in the corridor, Spike bounced up on his toes as they walked together. "That was fun. I think I won quite a pretty penny."  
  


"You mean you swindled quite a pretty penny," Angel corrected, leading Spike towards the lifts. "I saw your little tricks."  
  


"Yeah, but they didn't," Spike pointed out. "And I'm a richer sod for it."  
  


"You do realize that cheating is a way to get yourself killed?" Angel asked, hitting the deck button he wanted once they were in the lift.  
  


"Mostly it gets me sold into slavery," Spike replied. He smiled mischievously up at Angel. "Like last time."  
  


Angel shook his head in exasperation and gently shoved his childe out of the lift when they reached deck six. He led him over to one of the many doors on that end of the deck, then began rapidly typing in the computer console set in the wall outside of one.  
  


"What are we doing with the holodeck, Angel?" Spike asked, watching his sire curiously. "Don't tell me you want to introduce me to Carmela. _Please_ don't tell me you want to introduce me to Carmela."  
  


The dark-haired vampire chuckled. "Another time, perhaps," he said, then realized there might possibly not be another time. Shoving that depressing thought aside, he hit the final key and the door swished open. "After you."  
  


The dark green and burgundy of the room with the two green leather chairs was quite familiar to Spike, and he warily looked at the dark doorway across from him. "Uh, Angel. This isn't one of your fantasies that is really going to scar me for the rest of my unlife, is it?"  
  


"Why would you say that?" Angel asked, locking the holodeck door behind them.  
  


"Because I don't think I could handle a menage-a-trois when two out of the three are, well, me," Spike replied. Angel gave him a wicked smile and he wondered if that was exactly what his sire was planning. "It really isn't, right?"  
  


"No, it's not," Angel said, letting Spike off the hook. He was surprised that Spike had seen this holographic program already, but wasn't going to worry about it, or be embarrassed because of its label. "I turned William off. It's only you and me here."  
  


"Good," Spike said, relaxing perceptively. He looked around the finely decorated room until his gaze landed on the white, fur rug in front of the glowing fireplace. When he turned to suggest to his sire they try out that rug, he found himself falling into Angel's gaze. The licks of desire he always felt when around someone he wanted flared to a raging inferno inside of him.  
  


"Come here," Angel ordered in a soft, silky tone. Spike was helpless to resist. He moved until he was standing in front of his sire, only a foot separating them, his eyes still locked with the dark-haired vampire.  
  


Angel raised his right arm, his face changing, and bit into his wrist. As the human mask immediately slid back into place, he slowly lowered his arm, wrist outward, the blood running down his palm and around the back of his hand. He continued to stare into Spike's eyes, and waited.  
  


Spike could smell the sweet scent of his sire's blood and he grew hard in response. Over the past week and a half, he'd drank from Angel while in bed, but that was in the midst of passion. This was not. This was part offer, part demand. If he dropped to his knees and accepted the blood, he would be telling Angel how much he wanted him. He would be giving Angel power and control over him. He would be admitting that, even after close to twelve hundred years, he was still his sire's childe.  
  


Spike dropped to his knees and drank.  
  


Angel hissed and brought his other hand around to run his fingers over the top of Spike's head. His erection was straining against the material of his pants, aching more and more with each sweep of the blond's tongue over his wrist and hand as his childe cleaned off the blood. When Spike stopped, it took all his willpower not to grab the younger vampire and force his cock down Spike's throat in a show of dominance. That was not what Angel intended when he offered his blood.  
  


He wanted to know if Spike still wanted to be a part of his immortal life.  
  


Turning, he walked purposely over towards the fireplace, sat down on the hearth and removed his boots. Spike followed him a moment later, watching him curiously and with a lot of desire. The younger man sat as well, and pulled off his own boots, then stood back up and wiggled his toes in the plush, fur rug.  
  


"Strip," Angel instructed gruffly, catching Spike's eyes again.  
  


Spike did not hesitate in pulling the tee-shirt over his head and dropping it to the side. Never breaking his sire's gaze, he let his pants join his shirt on the floor. He stood proud and erect, unflinching and not uncomfortable when Angel slowly dropped his eyes and studied him.  
  


Angel stood and circled behind Spike, his footsteps silent on the rug. Spike could feel his sire's gaze burning into the skin of his back, buttocks and legs. He jumped slightly when Angel spoke near his ear.  
  


"Beautiful," Angel whispered. "Perfect."  
  


A large hand covered his shoulder and Spike was turned around to face an nude and equally aroused Angel. He didn't get a chance to examine the older man's body as his was examined, because he was swept up in a deep, searing kiss. He moaned quietly and pressed himself closer to his sire's bare skin, which was starting to warm due to the fire in the fireplace. His stiff member was flat up against Angel's coarse curls, erotically tickling him, as undoubtably his dark hair was doing the same to Angel.  
  


Angel pulled away first, only to tug Spike down onto the soft rug beside him. He immediately caught Spike's mouth in another kiss, his weight resting on his right hand and hip, his legs stretched out to the side. Spike was sitting in a mimic of his sire's position, only his legs were stretched out in the opposite direction, so his weight was resting on his right hand as well, allowing Angel to freely meet the younger man's lips.  
  


His tongue chased and retreated, tangling with Spike's, becoming more passionate as the minutes passed. The blond vampire was making soft purring sounds of pleasure, more than likely unconsciously, that increased and decreased in volume as the kiss continued. Angel was content to let the kiss go on forever, but his aching member had other demands.  
  


Spike wondered if the fact that vampires didn't need to breathe was false, because he was panting and gasping when Angel broke the kiss. He hadn't wanted it to end, however. He had wanted it to go on indefinitely, which was a new experience for him. Kissing was fun, but there were other things that could be done with the mouth. But he hadn't once thought about those other things while he was involved in that intensely passionate kiss with Angel.  
  


His eyes suddenly flew open, then rolled up under his lids, and a loud moan of pleasure was pulled from deep in his chest when he felt Angel's tongue sweep along the head of his throbbing shaft. He forced his eyes open again and looked down to the erotic site of his sire sucking the mushroom-shaped tip of his cock into his mouth. The arm supporting him started to shake and Spike was forced to lower himself down onto the rug...and found his face inches away from Angel's swollen member.  
  


Angel inhaled sharply when he felt Spike's tongue on his sac, then groaned around the thick rod he was sucking and licking as the younger man gently pulled his balls into his wet, willing mouth. For a few moments, he enjoyed the sensations Spike was invoking with his expert lips and tongue, then he continued his own ministrations.  
  


The sound of the fire crackling was the only accompaniment to the quiet sounds of the two lovers teasing and pleasuring each other's genitals while laying on the soft, fur rug. Hands stroked over bare skin, resting on hips before sliding down to taut buttocks, pulling the other man's pelvis closer in order to swallow as much of the other's thick shaft as possible. The scent of sex filled the richly decorated room, fueling the flames of arousal more.  
  


Spike came first, his fingers digging into Angel's soft skin of his buttocks, as he bucked his hips against his sire's face. He snarled and whimpered as he spilled his long-dead seed into Angel's mouth, shuddering when the dark-haired man's throat muscles contracted around the head of his cock as he swallowed.  
  


When the shocks of white-heat lightning stopped coursing through his body, Spike sucked hard on the shaft in his mouth, rubbing his tongue rapidly on the sensitive underside near the head of Angel's penis. His softening shaft was released and he felt his sire shift, rolling onto his back. Spike followed, releasing Angel's cock only long enough to move his body between the older man's legs.  
  


Angel sat partway up, watching down his body as Spike's blond head bobbed over his lap. He leaned on one elbow and raised his other hand to cup the back of the younger man's head, his fingers sliding through the soft locks of hair. He started raising and lowering his hips, thrusting himself into Spike's mouth. He let out a low growl of pleasure just before he climaxed, shooting his semen down his childe's waiting throat.  
  


Spike milked Angel for several moments before releasing his sire's softening cock. He dipped his head between the dark-haired vampire's legs and ran his tongue over Angel's sac, then crawled straight up his body, licking his sweaty skin the entire way. Spike paused briefly to press a kiss right over Angel's undead heart before continuing upwards, dipping his tongue into the hollow of his sire's throat, up over his Adam's apple, under his chin to his mouth.  
  


Angel dropped back onto the soft fur, pulling Spike down on top of him, their mouths fused together in another kiss. Angel swept his tongue inside Spike's mouth, tasting himself, but not caring, as he drew the younger man into another silent dance. His childe's body was warm from the fire, slick with sweat, and his hands easily glided over Spike's back as he gently ran them up and down.  
  


When they broke apart, Spike's lips turned up in a soft, tender smile, his eyes reflecting contentment and satisfaction. Angel answered by pulling Spike's head down to press a short kiss on his forehead, then release him completely. Spike took the hint and moved off his sire, laying down on his back on the rug next to the older man. He relaxed with a happy sigh, knowing that what had occurred was the just the beginning of the night.  
  


"You can leave at 0730 hours." Angel's voice was unnaturally loud and he cringed slightly because of it.  
  


"What?" Spike said, turning onto his side to stare at his sire in confusion and with a hint of hurt.  
  


"The Luna Nocturne will be in orbit of Kilon-4 at that time," Angel told him. "The first transport down to the planet will be within a few minutes of that. I figured you'd want to be on it." He didn't turn his head to look at Spike, not wanting to see the relief in Spike's eyes at being free again.  
  


Spike looked at Angel a moment longer, waiting for the dark-haired vampire to give some clue that he wanted him to stick around. When he didn't, Spike said, "I can always take a later transport..."  
  


"I have classes," Angel said. "And a staff meeting at 0800 hours. Besides, you said you were bored. It'll be dark still on Kilon-4, so I'm sure you can find some sort of mischief to get into before the sun rises."  
  


"Yeah." Spike rolled onto his back again and stared sullenly up at the ceiling. "I'm good at that."  
  


"You certainly are," Angel said. He gathered his flying emotions together to give into later and pushed himself to his feet. "Come on, why don't I give you a tour of the rest of the house? There's a few rooms I'm sure you'll get a kick out of."  
  


"Why not?" Spike replied, rising as well. "We got all night to kill before I leave."  
  


"And I can think of many ways to kill it," Angel said, heading towards the doorway that led further into the holodeck house. "Do you remember anything about Earth horses?"  
  


"Horses?" Spike said, trailing after him. "You've got to be bloody joking..."  
  


Silence descended upon the dark green and burgundy room, the firelight still flickering over the twin piles of clothing, the white, bear-skin rug and the memories of the two who had laid entwined upon it.  
  
  
  


**Part Nine**  
  


"Are you sure you don't want to take anything else?" Angel asked, as he and Spike stopped outside the transporter room. Couples and small groups filled the corridor, waiting for the first transport down to Kilon-4. Some were boisterous as they prepared to see a new world. Others were more subdued as they said goodbye to their friends and loved ones as they were leaving for good.  
  


"I've got money in my pocket and the clothes that never stay long on my back." Spike gave Angel a wolfish grin. "What more do I need?"  
  


Angel rolled his eyes at the same time the intercom in the corridor went on. "Attention, those who are taking the first transport to Kilon-4, please enter the transporter room now. Attention, those who are taking the first transport to Kilon-4, please enter the transporter room now."  
  


"That's me," Spike said. He looked up at his sire, batted his eyes, and asked in a breathy voice. "Are you going to kiss me goodbye?"  
  


Angel half-smirked, bent his head and pressed a soft, short kiss on Spike's lips. "Goodbye, Spike."  
  


"Ta, Angel," Spike said. "Try to kill that stick before the next time I see you."  
  


The blond vampire turned to go, but Angel caught his arm. "Wait, I almost forgot," he said, reaching into the bag hanging across his chest with his other hand. He pulled out a folded up piece of paper. "Souvenir."  
  


Spike arched his brow and took it from him. He unfolded it and quickly skimmed the words. A snort of laughter erupted from him at the contents.  
  


"Attention, those who are taking the first transport to Kilon-4, please enter the transporter room now..."  
  


Spike refolded the paper and stuck it in his pants pocket, a large smile on his face. "Take care, you old sod," he said, then joined the people entering the transporter room.  
  


"Try not to get into trouble!" Angel called after him.  
  


"But that's what I excel at!"  
  


Angel chuckled at his childe's parting comment and stayed until his blond head was no longer visible. Only then did he let his shoulders slump and his expression fall into sadness. With a sigh, he turned and headed down the corridor, his unexpected find lost once more.  
  


*****  
  


"Try it now!" Angel shouted. He looked at the newly installed coolant damper expectantly, armed with the refilled fire extinguisher. The engines on Lightning's Lady powered up, and when the damper didn't explode or fall off, he let out a whoop of joy.  
  


Rigby appeared at the opening in the flooring. "I take it we're good to go?"  
  


"New parts installed and working," Angel confirmed. At that moment, a bolt fell from above and smacked him on the head. With his deft reflexes, he caught it and grinned up at the Andinite. "Old parts compensating for the new by breaking. I think we're set."  
  


He handed the fire extinguisher to Rigby, then pulled himself out of the open deck of the hopper. Together they put the flooring back and Angel tossed the bolt in the filled-to-the-brim miscellaneous parts-that-fell-off-the-ship box on the way to the cockpit.  
  


"Go ahead and start pre-flight," Angel said, flipping various switches above the door and high on various panels in the cockpit. "I'll get us clearance and we're outta here. I'd like to hit Zandig before the week is up."  
  


The dark-haired vampire turned to leave, but Rigby's question stopped him. "Are you sure you want to leave, sir?" he asked.  
  


Angel looked over at his Andinite friend, then out the cockpit window at the bustle in the starship hanger. "Yeah, I'm sure," he answered.  
  


"It's not too late to ask for your real job back," Rigby pointed out, his metallic fingers working Lightning's console. "I doubt the school's filled the position yet."  
  


"That was never my real job and you know it." Angel lightly knocked his knuckles on the back of the pilot's seat. "This is where I belong."  
  


"If you say so, sir." Rigby turned in the copilot's seat and looked up at the vampire. "You'd better get that clearance."  
  


"Yeah," Angel agreed. Outside the cockpit window, two pilots embraced each other, one tall and dark, the other short and light, then they began speaking animatedly to one another. With a slap to the back of the seat, Angel turned and left the cockpit.  
  


Ten minutes later, the Lightning's Lady had clearance to leave, but instead of returning directly to the hopper, Angel had one more thing he wanted to do on board the Luna Nocturne. His fingers moved almost automatically over the computer keys, pulling up the program he wanted. The door to the holodeck swished open and he walked inside, allowing it to close behind him.  
  


The fire was crackling in the fireplace as usual, bathing the bear-skin rug in a soft, orangish glow. The dark coloring and finery of the room had not changed since last he'd entered this particular program over a year ago. He heard footsteps on the hardwood flooring and turned to the side doorway to wait.  
  


"Angelus," William greeted jovially, entering the room. "I almost didn't hear you come in. I've been trying to tune that soddin' piano you insist on keeping. I still think we should scrap the thing and get us a baby grand."  
  


Angel gave him a small smile. "Perhaps."  
  


"Really?" William said excitedly. "I saw this one over at Grainer's that played like a dream. You'll love it."  
  


"I'm sure I will," Angel said. He looked around the room again, impressing it needlessly into his memory. He doubted he would ever forget this hologram. He returned his gaze to William and gave him another small smile. "Well, goodbye, William."  
  


"Goodbye?" William said. "You're leaving already? But you just got here."  
  


"Actually, I've been here too long," Angel said, thinking about the long, restless past year he'd spent aboard the Council starship. He turned to the door and touched the spot on the holographic wall above the door keypad. It slid up to reveal a computer console duplicate to the one outside of the holodeck.  
  


"When will you be home?" William asked softly.  
  


Angel's finger hovered over the enter key as he glanced back at William. He shook his head sadly. "This was never home," he said, then depressed the key. The hologram faded around him. He opened the door and walked out without a backwards look.  
  


The words "program deleted" glowed faintly on the console in the black and yellow room.  
  


*****  
  


"Transport to Angel," the communicator on Angel's wrist chirped.  
  


Angel looked over at Rigby, who gave him the Andinite version of a shrug. They were moments away from leaving the Council's starship, going over the final pre-flight checklist. "If you're going to steal the communicator, you might as well answer it," Rigby said.  
  


"This is Angel," the dark-haired vampire said into the communicator after depressing the button on the side.  
  


"Delivery for you. Cargo bay six."  
  


Angel arched a brow. "Thanks."  
  


"Transport out."  
  


He released the button and stood. "We didn't order any parts that I'm forgetting about, did we?" he asked Rigby.  
  


"Who knows, sir," Rigby replied. "We order so many damn parts for this crate, who can keep track?"  
  


Angel chuckled. "I'll be back, then we're gone," he said, then headed out of the cockpit. He lifted his hand in half-hearted greeting to those he passed on the walk across the hanger to the cargo bays. The entry to bay six was crowded with workers in colorful flightsuits unloading a shipment from a transport ship docked nearby.  
  


Weaving his way around crates, containers and workers, he made his way over to the cargo bay receiving officer stationed behind a very busy, half-moon computer console. "Having fun, Jamiwn?"  
  


"Loads," Jamiwn replied with a half-grin. The tall human removed his brim cap with the Council of Planets emblem on it and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, then swept his dreadlocks back up under the cap. "I hear you and Rig are shipping out."  
  


"After I pick up whatever you got for me," Angel said, drumming his hands on the edge of the console. "I've been on this bucket ninety-two years too long."  
  


"Itchy feet, huh?" Jamiwn said, his fingers dancing over the keyboard in front of him. His black brow arched. "Looks like your delivery came complete with armed guards. They're in room three."  
  


"Thanks," Angel said, giving the officer a mock salute. He turned and headed for the multiple small rooms that lined the far end of the cargo bay, patting his navy flightsuit pockets in search of some sort of identification in case he needed it.  
  


The door swished open without having to press a touchpad and the dark-haired vampire saw three armed guards as predicted. One was standing near the entry to the room, the second was standing by the table set in the center, and a third was standing in the far corner beyond the table, his weapon aimed at something on the floor. "I'm Angel. I hear you have something for me?"  
  


"Yes," the guard at the table said. He picked up a clipboard and walked over to the vampire. "Is this your property?"  
  


Angel took the clipboard and read the paper clipped to it. He let out a short snort of laughter. "Yes, it is," he answered, not bothering to smother the broad smile on his face.  
  


The guard took back the clipboard, removed the top paper and handed it to Angel. Then he took out a pen and pointed to a spot on another sheet on the clipboard. "Sign here."  
  


Angel scribbled his name where indicated and gave the pen back to the guard. "Thank you," the guard said, exchanging the pen for a set of keys. "It's all yours."  
  


He waited until the three guards left, then leaned back against the wall and jingled the keys. "Now, what am I going to do with a slave?" Angel said with fake puzzlement.  
  


"You can start by getting this bloody chains off me," Spike growled from the corner of the room. "They're annoying."  
  


Angel chuckled and quickly crossed the room to where Spike was sitting on the floor, his wrists and ankles manacled. "And here I thought you liked to be chained up," he said, squatting down to unlock them.  
  


"Depends on who's doing the chaining," Spike said, a devilish grin appearing on his lips.  
  


"There," Angel said. "You're free."  
  


Spike stood and stretched, his grey tee-shirt untucking slightly from the blue and grey camouflage pants he wore. "Aah, much better. I've been stuck wearing those things for over a month now, waiting for this soddin' ship to arrive."  
  


"What did you do this time?" Angel asked, feigning nonchalance at seeing his childe again. Spike started to say something, then changed his mind. Angel waited, watching as the blond bit his lower lip, then dropped his eyes to the heavy-duty combat boots on his feet.  
  


Finally, Spike answered, his voice barely loud enough for Angel to hear. "I pretended to be a runaway slave and turned myself in on Pi'wiik-Alpha." He glanced up at the older vampire, a cross between hopefulness and worry reflected in his gaze. "I figured since I had the ownership paper you gave me as a souvenir..."  
  


"You'd be able to get to the Luna Nocturne without a problem," Angel finished.  
  


"No," Spike said quickly. "I wanted to get back to _you,_ and that was the fastest way to do it."  
  


Angel took a purposeful breath and let it out slowly before he spoke. "Rigby and I were just about to depart. A minute later and you would have missed me."  
  


"Angel, I've been missing you for over a year."  
  


The words were a mimic of what Angel felt. In an instant, he reached out and snagged the front of Spike's shirt, dragging the younger man to him. The kiss he gave his childe was hard, brutal and full of pent up emotions that had been repressed since Spike had left him. When he broke it off and released Spike, the younger man staggered briefly, his blue eyes wide.  
  


"Woah, mate," Spike said in a none-too-calm voice. "I guess I was missed, too."  
  


"You might say that," Angel replied with a smile. He picked up the chains, threw them over his shoulder and pocketed the keys. One of the things he had learned over the years as a hopper pilot was to take anything that wasn't nailed down. "So, what's your opinion of Zandig?"  
  


Spike followed Angel as the older man headed out of room three. "Zandig? It's dirty, smelly, the Zandina's treat you like shit, and their liquor tastes the same way."  
  


"Sounds like a perfect place for a card game," Angel commented.  
  


The blond stopped walking and looked at his sire's retreating back for a few seconds, then jogged to catch up with him. "What do you mean, it's a perfect place for a card game?" Spike asked.  
  


Angel stopped in front of the ramp to Lightning's Lady. "Didn't I tell you?"  
  


"Tell me what?" Spike said with exasperation.  
  


"I have an appointment with eternity,"Angel replied. He grinned. "Want to come along for the ride?"  
  


Spike stared at his sire for a moment. "That has to be the cheesiest thing I have ever heard."  
  


Angel winked, then turned and headed up the ramp. He paused at the top and looked back at Spike. "Are you coming?"  
  


Spike's mouth turned up into the most wicked grin Angel had ever seen. "Should I even bother to answer that?"  
  


Planet to planet, solar system to solar system, Lightning's Lady visited each briefly before moving on. The immortal vampires never settled anywhere for the reason that neither of them ever felt the need to do so, because the same was true for Spike as it was for his sire.  
  


Wherever Angel was, Spike was home.  
  


**End**


End file.
